I have no idea what happened to me there for a while. I think maybe I got a little overwhelmed by the lack of weight loss and the constant thoughts of dieting. I lost touch with my smarmy, tongue-in-cheek attitude that so many of you have come to love about me (and I'm sure just as many don't appreciate).
So, my deepest apologies to those of you who read this journal religiously. I have let you down.
Here's the update:
I am now only getting on the scale on the first of every month. That way, there is no chance of getting on the scale mid-month and letting the number manipulate me. Cause this is what happens:
A weight loss sends the message to my brain that I can indulge for the rest of the month. I lost some weight, so the extra cookie won't kill me. Unforunately for me, it is never just one extra cookie. It is always the whole bag of oreos.
A weight gain means I have lost the month entirely. Might as well go off the deep end and write it all off. If I could excercise with as much enthusiasm as I attack a bag of chips I would be ahead of the game.
In the last couple of months, I had one of those OMG moments I get every now and then. The last one I had was when I was shopping with my mom (see my August entry).
This time though, I was brought into my new awareness when I felt my eyes roll of their own accord while I was driving on the Deerfoot.
I would have missed the moment since I was snacking - and I go to another place in my head when I am snacking. You know that place: it's like a blank stare, but in your brain, and you have no idea what happened in the last 5 minutes between opening the bag of Doritos and touching the last few crumbs on the bottom.
The trigger this time was what I was snacking on. Pringles.
I realized about halfway through the cannister that I had hit a new low. I freaking hate Pringles. You know you have sunk to a new level when you eat just to keep your mouth moving. When you demolish a bag/tin/package of something you have never, ever enjoyed. For me, one of those things is Pringles, the other is Munchos (which happily, I have not seen here in the West, but then again, I am not looking for them ).
My eyes rolled in direct response to the pasty, filmy feeling the Pringles left in my mouth.
I realized right then that I would never do that again. I have no idea how I even had Pringles in the car and I have no recollection of buying them. But there they were in my hour of need. I felt awful about eating them, but I couldn't stop.
That epiphany was critical for me. I need to be more aware of what I am putting in my mouth. No more absent-minded snacking on the Deerfoot. Not only did I betray myself, but I betrayed all my favorite comfort foods. Mr. Christie, please forgive me.
Friday, December 21, 2007