Succumbing

My partner keeps moaning about us not going out as frequently as we used to. Funny, that: he used to love evenings on the sofa and was always unhappy when I asked if he'd like to go out in the evening. I'm tired, he kept saying, so I stopped asking and found other people to go out with. And now he's kind of jealous that I go out with them a lot while he's at home, staring at the computer screen. Oh well, the grass is always greener.
Anyway, we're going out tonight for sushi, so I'm saving space for it and not eating today. Just had a small skinny cappuccino and two sugar-free cranberry Ricola drops. There's fat-free Activia in the fridge. And that would be it.
I can't stop thinking about food. I dream of salted caramel ice-cream, chocolate brownies and fish and chips. When I close my eyes, I see cupcakes, blue cheese and paella. I'll indulge myself this weekend and have something I crave. Not a lot, mind. Control is key.

Fear not, my love, for the scales does not bite.

I had a mild scale-o-phobia last night and it kept me awake until 1am (which wasn't good, as I had to get up at 5am). I thought I'd be heavier after the feast at the pub opening.
I am pleased to inform you that I was wrong.
According to my calculations, I devoured around 900 kcals yesterday - hardly a binge, but I still felt bad about myself. I know I should be less controlling, I know I should let myself go once in a while, but it's not that easy.
Oh, and I had my eyes tested yesterday. 20/20 vision, apparently. That's good news.
Plans for today include a walk at lunchtime (it's a lovely day and the area I work in is great for walks), gym after work and watching another two or three episodes of "Supersize v Superskinny". A very interesting show, that. What puzzles me is that adult people don't know a thing about their bodies and are genuinely shocked when the doctor tells them their bones would get brittle from malnourishment or their veins will get clogged if they overindulge. Isn't it something that they teach in schools?
No? Oh well, perhaps they should.

Total failure.

That's how she feels now. Full of food (just some cereal for breakfast and natural yoghurt for lunch, then 9 chips, a piece of fried fish, one pound-coin sized, greasy puff pastry with tomato and cheese plus a mini burger) and wine (just one glass, but that was enough, as she hardly ever drinks at all). All because of a gastro-pub opening. She used to love those events; she dreads them now, she despises herself after each of them more and more.
She sets her limit to 300 for tomorrow. She'll make up for the gluttony and the lack of control. Friday is Liquid Day again. And then she's alone all weekend, so she can give up food entirely. No-one will be there to watch.
A sigh of relief.

Memories

I remember going shopping and finding those fantastic, grungy, brown corduroy trousers in a tiny size. They almost fit. I asked the saleswoman if she could hold them for me for a week. She agreed, even though she didn't seem too pleased.
A week later, I went back to the store and tried the trousers on. They were a perfect fit.
Two weeks later, they were a bit loose around the hips.
I have no idea why I just remembered the trousers now. Perhaps because I'm close to losing motivation, thinking that I can't do it. Is it my mind, reminding me that I did it before, so I can do it again?
Thanks, mind. I needed it.
Down to 129.8. I just had breakfast (slice of Ryvita with light cream cheese), and I'm now sipping my coffee (black, of course) from an industrial-sized mug. Plans for the day include going for a little shopping trip (need to find new wallet - not enough space for cards in the old one), spending some quality time at the gym and watching football. Oh, and did I mention not eating? Yes, that too.

Still not moving.

My body's holding on to every pound now - it's at its happy weight, one that's easy for it to maintain. Despite my liquid day yesterday and only around 400 kcals consumed, the scale didn't budge. I'm thinking of some more drastic actions now. Next weekend: saltwater flush.
If I go to bed not feeling hungry, I feel like a failure. My stomach's grumbling is my favourite lullaby.

Lo and behold.

I hereby announce that Friday is going to be my Liquid Day.
Somehow I haven't eaten anything solid today. I started with a glass of orange juice (because it's good to have a healthy, hearty breakfast, isn't it?) and then had another one around 11pm. Lunch was Starbucks light mocha frappucino (144 kcals - what's not to like?) and dinner will be green tea. Lots of green tea; I'm very, very hungry today and if I don't fill my stomach with something - ANYTHING - I might binge.
Or at least have a sandwich or something.
If I'm going out on Friday, I'll move Liquid Day to Thursday. Or just avoid eating when out and stick to drinking.
And apart from food-related matters, I was supposed to get a new phone today, but the lovey people at my mobile phone company told me that I need to wait until September, unless I'm happy to pay £150. Needless to say, I wasn't happy. I found another mobile company who told me they'd love me to be their customer. If my loyalty is not appreciated, I just stop being loyal.
So, a new phone on Monday. Can't wait. I'm torn between selling the old (rubbish) one and smashing it on the ground. I never liked it, to be honest.

Anticipation and fear

Looking forward to:
- the weekend
- my birthday
- mini-break in Cornwall in August that was supposed to be a surprise
- our trip to Barcelona in September
Afraid of:
- all the food accompanying the above
Let me get this straight: I'm not anorexic or wannarexic. I want to be skinny, yes, but I'm not willing to lose my hair and my teeth and grow lanugo all over my body and become weak and apathetic. That said, my relationship with food is that of desire and fear at the same time. I love food, but I know how dangerous it is for me. I know how tempting it is and how easily I could slip into the habit of eating more than I actually need. I can't avoid places and situations in which I'm expected to eat. Instead, I fast through the day and only eat the one meal I'm expected to, sticking to lesser evil: grilled chicken, poached fish, steamed veg. I try not to play with food on my plate too much - it could raise suspicion and suspicion is the last thing I want. Most of the time, the people around me are so immersed in conversation that they don't even notice the fact that I've only eaten hal of what was on my plate.
So, it's not that bad.
My partner is the worst one to eat with. He's too observant, too inquisitive. Sometimes I think I made a mistake when I told him about my problems with food in the past. I thought he'll protect me from all this, I hoped he'll stop it from coming back.
Or have I?
By the way, I'm 130.7 today. So, still down. Slowly, far too slowly to my liking, but down.

Sometimes she wouldn't mind being left alone

For a few days. Or weeks, maybe. She could then launch her master plan and not worry about suspicions.
She's sure he knows. She pretends to be on a "normal" diet, so she has to eat sometimes. She tells him she can't eat in the evening, that it's all part of her plan. To make it more believable, she stuffs a forkful of risotto she's cooking into her mouth when he's watching. Then she puts some of it away - "for lunch". Most of it will land in the rubbish bin anyway, her lunch today will be air. She hates wasting food, but she hates being fat more.
She went to the gym yesterday - good to be back. She's going again this morning. What's the point in sitting at home and doing nothing in particular? Why should she choose staring blankly at the computer screen, if she can stare at the treadmill screen?
No loss today, but no gain either. She wasn't hungry enough when she went to bed. But that will change today. She'll see to it.

Tell me why I don't like Mondays?

Well, having to go to work may be one of the reasons. Or having to get up at 5am. Or the combination of these two factors.
Still, if every Monday starts like today, I'm ready and willing to like them!
And it started with 131.6 lbs on the scale. Lighter today that I was yesterday? You got it! Not too bad a start, considering the fact that my weekend was unusually sedentary. I can't wait to see the results of calorie restricting + my usual amount of physical activity. I'm a bit wary that I might feel more hungry today - after all, I cycled 10.5 miles in the morning (home to work) and I still have my return journey and the gym ahead of me, but I think if I stick to 1000 kcals, I should be fine.
Speaking of bikes, I have three long rides to look forward to in July. Two of them are routes I already know (the exhausting, but very scenic London to Brighton and the more relaxed London to Cambridge), but the third one is going to be extreme: a 120-mile ride to the coast. Not extreme enough? Oh, I didn't mention we'll be riding at night. I'm so excited I can barely think of anything else now. I've never done such an epic ride before, but I know - I just KNOW - I can make it.

Good things come to those who stick to the plan.

At least that's true in my case.
I did have brunch (smoked salmon omelette - around 370 kcals) and a glass of fresh orange juice (no sugar or other nasties, 55 kcals). Bah, I even humoured my friends and ate a little pistachio macaron (which was roughly 80 kcals) - and yes, it was delicious. Back home, I had lots of water and green tea. I wanted to exercise a little, but I seem to have lost my favourite workout DVD, so I went for a walk by the river instead.
I had a minor scales fear this morning. Turns out I shouldn't have - it showed 132.7. So far, so good.
Breakfast was a mock-scrambled egg (instead of frying, I put it in a bowl over a pan of boiling water - takes a bit longer, but tastes just as good), a slice of Ryvita with some half-fat cream cheese and an industrial sized mug of black coffee. Did I mention how much I love my mug? No? Well, I do.
Shopping was a total failure yesterday. The shoes I liked were either too expensive (£720 for a pair of shoes, anyone?) or they didn't have my size, so I decided to leave it for now. No point buying something you don't even like. I didn't even look ad dresses - I'll reward myself with one when I'm 120 lbs. That should keep me motivated. Sophie, I think I know what you mean by saying you only buy yourself things when you feel like you deserve them.

An early birthday gift

So tomorrow wasn't supposed to be a fast day, but somehow it was. And you know what? The scales says 133.5 today. A good start indeed!
I'm going to eat today - got an invitation to a brunch menu launch in a fabulous restaurant and, being me, I couldn't refuse. The brunch is at 12:30 and it will be my only meal today. It's convenient that I don't like tomato juice - I'll skip the Bloody Marys and stick to water. That should save me some calories.
After brunch, I'm planning some shopping, since the restaurant is in one of my favourite shopping areas ever. I need shoes and a dress for my birthday next month. I'd like to get both today (I don't have time for shopping very often), but now I'm wondering if I should perhaps put buying the dress on hold. Who knows, maybe I'll need a smaller size?
Got myself an early birthday present yesterday: I finally signed up for a gym membership. I haven't been anywhere near a gym for almost 2 years now and despite having plenty of physical exercise (22 miles cycling every day Monday to Friday, 50 or 60-mile long weekend rides), I miss it. So, back to the gym tomorrow. I'm as excited as a kid before Christmas!

Used to be Miss Piggy, gonna be Miss Twiggy

Yes, I did have weight problems when I was a kid.
I was fat. Not chubby, not plump, but fat. I remember the moment I realized it: my class was going for a walk and the kids were chatting about how much they weighed. 55 pounds, said one girl. 62, said another. 61, one of the boys chimed in. I was silent; I didn't want them to ask me. But they did.
I was 107 pounds then. I wouldn't mind being 107 pounds now. But at that time, I was only 8 years old.
This should have woken me up. This should have been enough to stop me from overeating. But it didn't - and things went from bad to worse. By the time I turned 14, I was almost 170 pounds.
If you think children are sweet, innocent creatures, let me enlighten you: they're not. They're brutally honest, cruel and unaware of the consequences of what they say or do. They mock you, they call you names, they have no mercy on you if you're different. I should know that; I experienced it first-hand.
Then, one summer, my brother fell ill. What seemed to be an infection turned out to be a brain tumour that required immediate surgery or my brother would have died. He was taken to a hospital 250 miles from where we lived and my mum and dad both went with him. My sister and I stayed home with nan. The whole situation was so nerve-wrecking that I was unable to eat and, surprisingly, nan didn't force me to eat either. I think she wass pretty stressed and scared herself.
I didn't realize that I'd been losing weight until one of my friends noticed it. It was pleasing to hear something good about how I looked for a change. Encouraged by the comment, I started restricting. Soon I was eating around 300 calories a day. Sure, my hair was falling out, my skin became dry and horrid to the touch and my period vanished, but I was slim for once. So slim that when I went to visit my brother in the hospital and my mum saw me, she was terrified.
Long story short, a few months later my family was reunited again and as soon as my brother's started to show signs of recovery, my mum turned her eyes on me and began to gradually convince me that food was good and eating was not a crime. It took a while for me to believe her, but eventually I did.
However, my relationship with food was never "normal" and "healthy" again. I had periods of severe restricting, followed by what I thought was "normal" eating (and what other people perceived as being fussy with food), followed by enjoying food too much. Needless to say, my weight fluctuated a lot, too.
At the moment, it's a shameful 136 pounds.
But I'm working on it. Silently, secretly.

Being an adult changes things.

You have a job, you have friends, you have your own flat. You're finally in control of your own life and no-one can tell you what to do. You don't have to constantly be on your toes. You can do whatever you like - and eat whatever you like.
Then you realize you've let yourself go. The skirt that was a little too big a year ago is suddenly almost too small. There are parts of your body that you wouldn't even look at if you had the choice. But somehow you can't stop looking. And you make a decision.
Because you can make your own decisions now. You can eat whatever you like... or choose not to eat whenever you like.
Your boyfriend wouldn't be happy about it and you know that. He thinks you look good in your British size 8. He wants you healthy and feminine. He knows your little secret (and you can't help but think that perhaps you shouldn't have told him). But he won't find out. You'll make sure he won't.
After all, you know how to lie. You went through it before, only then, over 10 years ago, it was harder. Deep down inside you knew that it will catch up with you eventually. You knew it from the start.