for the record...

...looking at Sugardaddy's brownies is not helping the carbohydrate cravings. 

I'm just sayin'...

the tenacious ten: day two

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst, for they are sticking to their diets.

Author Unknown
 

I'm hungry. Really. Not just "I think I'm hungry because I'm bored or depressed or existentially dissatisfied." I'm really, truly, HUNGRY.You would think that would not be the cause for much concern. If you're hungry, you just eat. It's just that simple. But in my world, nothing is JUST. And nothing is SIMPLE.

For the record, I am getting up to get a low-fat cheese stick. I am not so legalistic that I will not feed my body when my body says feed me. But I am also not so disciplined that I can get away with doing this at my body's every whim. And I am not so confident that I can navigate the mire of my psyche well enough to not come completely unglued with each non-sanctioned meal plan choice. So I must tread with caution.This morning was a departure. A bowl of Kashi Go-Lean Crunch instead of my "clean" oatmeal. The box was calling to me. Loudly and persistently. It needed to be emptied so it would STOP. I have no better excuse.

Dinner was a departure. A Zone bar instead of a chicken breast and broccoli. I had exactly 30 minutes to get a walk in after work before my family got home, and I needed to eat. I couldn't take broccoli for a walk. The Zone bar was convenient. It was a logical choice.The cheese stick is a departure. I'm hungry. I can eat a cheese stick. For the moment, it's "just that simple."

None of these things are particularly bad, other than the fact that they are manufactured and that the first two contain sugar, which I am trying to avoid. But they are not BAD, and, therefore, I will not feel BAD about them. Or at least I will try not to.I am sticking to my diet, even when not sticking to my diet. I can let go of the legalism and embrace the grace I am so desperately in need of.

And then, tomorrow, I can endeavor again to follow closely that which is set out for me.

curses on isaac newton…

Finally stepped on the scale this morning. I think I was in need of a shock to finally wake me up out of this sugar-induced stupor. It woke me up, alright. I won't go through my list of emotions—I'm sure you can pretty well guess by now what my response would have been.

I did not, however, spend twenty minutes crying in the shower, which is a fairly typical response for me. Probably because the number really wasn't a surprise, given what The Woman Formerly Known as Lorie looked like in pictures from the weekend. And how can I act shocked when I know what I've been doing? The first ten pounds I can legitimately blame on a crappy winter—they truly snuck up on me. The rest? Well, it's all me, baby. Rebellion? Anger turned inward? Apathy? Self-care? Who knows. I just hope it's over.

It is odd that I did not cry. But I think I am moving toward resolve. Moving toward… In the meantime, there are Oreo cookies in my pantry from the weekend. Will I eat one when I'm done? Before I tell my husband to take them into work tomorrow? Will I eat more than one? More than two? Or will I drink my water and retreat to bed, knowing that there are more Oreo cookies in the world that I can have any time I want?

Mr. Newton claims for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Pig out—gain weight. Starve—binge. Weigh yourself—freak out and create a new resolve to, well, to do what?

I don't know.

I'm tired of equal and opposite reactions. I want a new and different reaction. I want to stop swinging from one extreme to the other. I want to be free.

But does freedom mean eating the Oreo cookies, or not?

This, I cannot determine for the life of me…

outrageous!

I once described, with a great deal of bewilderment and, I must admit, the slightest bit of disdain, my husband's bizarre and mysterious ability to not eat a piece of cheesecake simply because he was not hungry. I likewise marveled, within this same post, about his ability to reside within the same house as that piece of cheesecake without devouring it immediately. Such things are, truly, beyond my comprehension.

It appears my daughter has not fallen far from the proverbial tree. On Sunday, my father-in-law treated us to Cheesecake Factory for dessert on Mother's Day. My daughter, or at least the part of her that is like her mother, insisted on having HER OWN piece of Chris' Outrageous Chocolate Cake. The part of her that is like her father could not finish it, and brought it home.

Where it sat in the refrigerator until last night. When I ate it. Because I couldn't stand it anymore.

I refuse to feel guilty about it. She was clearly not going to finish that piece of cake. And it was simply too outrageous, truly, to go to waste. I mean, com'mon—a layer of rich brownie, topped with coconut-pecan frosting, topped with chocolate cake, topped with chocolate chip coconut cheesecake, topped with more cake, more frosting, and more brownie! How could you NOT eat that?!?!

I waited for FOUR days. Granted, I did not remind her it was in there. But, for crying out loud, who needs reminded they have a piece of cake in the fridge!?!?!

So yes, if my daughter asks, I ATE HER CAKE. And it was darn good, too. But here's the scary thing—I think something is going very wrong within my internal wiring. I did something I NEVER do.

I didn't finish it. GASP.

The last three bites—the part where the back of the cake was drizzled with chocolate fudge and huge chocolate chunks—it was too sweet. I threw away the last three bites of Chris' Outrageous Chocolate Cake. Did you hear that?! I THREW AWAY THREE BITES OF CAKE!!! Either something is very, very wrong, or, well, hmm… or something is finally getting right. I'm not sure which, but I'd better go finish the Dark Chocolate Cookie Crumble ice cream before some weird manifestation of my husband rises up in me and decides I'm not really hungry!