In the past two weeks, I’ve put on .8 pounds, according the the beast of a scale Weight Watchers runs. But I still feel thinner, even if I’m not. When I learned about my gain last night, I was ready to walk right out. Not to eat, but basically not to listen to anymore bullshit from the plan. I gained weight because it was Easter, and a whole variety of other reasons that don’t have to do with me accepting myself for who I am. I know who I am. I might not like some aspects very well, but I do know who I am and what I’m supposed to do to lose weight. And the truth is on the scale. I didn’t do it.
So it’s back to the plan, again. I feel like I’ve gained and lost this same eight pounds at least 20 times. What I’d like to do is just lose the eight pounds, then get on with losing the rest. I’m sick of being stuck here. It’s so ridiculously trivial and stupid.
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It’s safe to say that I now appreciate food more than ever. Everything tastes better. And in the small quantites in which I’m permitted to eat, I savor every bite.
There’s goodness in this, I suppose. As much as I said I loved food and wine, maybe I wasn’t really appreciating all the tasty things I gobbled down to get me to where I am now. If you always have filet mignon and never ground chuck, how can you truly appreciate the difference and enjoy the filet as it should be enjoyed? Not that I ate filet all the time, but I certainly have consumed my fair share of rich, decadent and tasty things, and never felt hesitation about slathering on a layer of butter on a baguette.
Now that I’m forced to hesitate, I’ve begun to find that the choices I make are first really about enjoyment, rather than just feeding the beast. Of course, the majority of the time I could easy gnaw off the table leg, but at least now I know that if it goes in my mouth, it had better be really tasty. Because I savor every single calorie. And every calorie tastes better because of it.
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