pound foolish

This was a hard week for me.  Normally, eating out isn’t stressful — I’ve got my well-worn restaurant points bible, and the internet is a wealth of information, so I can generally feel pretty confident about what’s going in my body.

But of course, the asterisk on the end of that sentence refers to some problematic fine print: “unless it’s home-cooked (by someone else).”  No ingredient lists there, and you can’t really interrogate your host about the finer points of his cookery during a party.  You’re left with a wing, a prayer, and a hope that the salad dressing on the buffet isn’t hiding some nefarious secret.

Again, such situations are usually isolated incidents, to be survived with the cushion of flex points and the knowledge that the next day, order can once more resume.

This week, not so much.  The wedding hit my routine like a gourmet hurricane.  First, there was the bbq party on Thursday, then there was the rehearsal dinner (exceedingly yummy, but how does one responsibly answer the question, “would you prefer the creme brulee or the chocolate truffle cake?” 😉 ), then there was lunch at the Embassy before the wedding,  then there was the reception buffet and WEDDING CAKE and associated imbibing at the wedding, then there were cooked-to-order omlettes and pancakes the next morning, and finally, there was dinner at Longhorn Sunday night.

I started out fine but was basically in triage mode by Sunday afternoon: evaluating how to minimize the backward slide while still not being “that girl” (who is so worried about her diet that she’s just no fun).  To add to the concern, I’d been up at my weigh-in the week before, and I couldn’t help a niggling, low-grade anxiety about continuing that trend.

I was actually scared to go weigh in on Monday.  It felt like going to take a test when you know you’re failing the material.  The best I was hoping for was a wash.  If I’d just maintained, I’d thank God, fasting.  My hands were shaking as I went up to the counter and handed the receptionist my card.

I was down 2.8, for a net loss of 1.2.

WHEW.

And it’s like the universe knew all about it, because the topic of discussion that day was, “Look back and Learn: Focusing on Feedback, not Failure.”  Susan, the group leader, put it this way:  if you’re focusing on how you’ve failed, you’re not looking to learn anything from your experience.  Instead of freaking out about how you’re off track and losing ground and all that, we have to take a deep breath and look honestly at what caused this blip, and what we can do next time to avoid the same pitfall.

Yeah, yeah, universe….I hear you.

So then last night/this morning, some of my friends told me how good I was looking.  And this made me a little skittish, because when I’d looked in the mirror that morning, my impression had been that even 30 lbs later, my tummy’s not flat and my butt is huge.  As I said to Mikey, sometimes it’s depressing to realize exactly HOW FAR off-track I was when I started this journey…even though I can see the progress, I still have so far to go.

Enter the universe, for Ginny Lesson Part Two.

I link to a WW blog on here, because I like the way Shani thinks.  We have a lot of the same insecurities, thus a lot of the same neuroses.  She’s just a lot less obsessive about it. ;-p  And what was she talking about today?  Oh, just the importance of not zeroing in on every single flaw we can find in ourselves.  Especially when years later, we’ll look back and WISH we looked that good.

Self-esteem issue #412: When people tell you that you look good, they’re PROBABLY not subtly mocking you.  They might actually mean it.  Although it is a classic “mean girl” tactic to compliment someone as a convoluted brand of sarcasm.  (Time to compare the Then and Now pictures again, before the insecurity-spiral really gets going.)

Anyway, I don’t mean any of this as an egocentric soliliquy or fishing for compliments (please, no!) or any of that.  It was just made so clear to me this weekend that I still regard my weight loss as a bubble that could be popped at any moment.  I’ve never intentionally lost this much before, and the more I lose, the more I feel like I’m walking a tightrope over a very deep chasm.  I’m so scared I’m going to slip off and wake up one morning to find I’m right back where I started.  Every setback feels like a waste of time as I get closer to my ultimate goal, and it’s very hard to think of it as anything other than a failure.

In Melissa’s meeting, they talked about being nice to yourself — treating yourself the way you’d treat a friend.  You’d never tell a friend, “oh my GOD, you look so fat in that!! what are you doing???” so why is it ok to say it to yourself?

Probably the hardest lesson I have to learn over the course of this journey involves being polite to myself.  When I gain one week (or God help me, two in a row), the first words that flash through my head are lazy, greedy, weak…not what you’d call helpful.  Oh I’m evaluating where I went wrong, all right — but I’m doing it in the tone of a lecturing parent.  You KNEW you shouldn’t have had that chicken.  I don’t care how good it looked — it was swimming in cream sauce.  And this is your punishment!  Fatty.  No flex points for you this week.  Now go clean your room.

Hurray for Type A low self-esteem.  😉

On a much happier note, the wedding was beyond awesome!!! Monky and Hannah looked so happy, and it was wonderful to watch them as they start on this next phase of their lives.  It was great fun to hang out with everybody and to DANCE!!! We never get enough opportunities to dance.  Once the dust settles, I really really want to get in touch with that teacher Deb recommended, and start on some ballroom lessons.

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1 Comment

  1. krishyana said,

    October 6, 2008 at 1:32 pm

    see all that worry and you were A-OK =D hehe yay for you!


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