The number on the scale in mexico is HIGH.
My diet will begin tomorrow in Miami- we leave for there today.
I’ve been away for a week. Ive been fat for the past three days of this week.
I am mid month in my menstrual cycle – always a higher weight!
Food is my problem.
Food is the enemy.
My love of (or is it my compulsion over) food is the enemy.
I have worn the same normal size person jeans for over three years.
This is a huge accomplishment for me. HUGE.
Year to year before, I used to guess each season what would (or would not!) fit.
Still feels like a miracle that I can pull something from my closet, step into it and it buttons.
Sure, some days the button feels easier to close than others, but my jeans always fit.
And yet the fear that I will spiral out of control and gain sixty lbs in the blink of an eye is ever present.
I won’t tell you what I weigh.
Nope. Not. Gonna. Happen.
But here’s some background information.
1970: I was born. 6lbs 8oz.
1979: I was about 80 lbs and short.
1984: The numbers get higher. but arguably not that high. I was still short.
and actually I was around the same weight I am today. But maybe a touch shorter.
1986: At my sweet sixteen I was 16lbs less than I am today and had a severe case of mono.
1988: I was 10lbs less than I am today at my highschool prom.
1992: At my college graduation I was 23lbs heavier than I am now.
1992: Start of law school I was 6 lbs less than I am now.
1995: I met my husband. I was 32lbs more than I am now.
1998: First baby born. 90lbs heavier than I am now.
2000: Second baby born. 80lbs heavier than I am now.
2003: Weight gain due to emotional stress. 90lbs heavier than I am now.
2005: Lost a bit of weight. 50lbs heavier than I am now.
2008: Death of my mom. 66-70lbs heavier than I am today. I didn’t get on the scale much then…
2009: Started dieting. In February. I was 39 years old.
2010: Hit my super low adult weight- which is 5lbs lower than I am today.
But really that super low weight is almost impossible for me to maintain. I can do so by eating just
one meal a day. essentially.
I am eating more than one meal a day.
I am eating three meals a day.
AND I HATE IT!
I felt so much better (mentally) just after my bacterial stomach infection two weeks ago that rendered me back to my “happy” weight. I had been really sick. I couldn’t tolerate more than eight pretzel rods a day with a gatorade chaser but hey, that’s living.. no?
I kid. kinda. I did love the protruding bones I was starting to feel but being sick makes me fear death. I fear death when not sick so I dont need an extra reason to worry!
But the roar of my returning appetite is the devil in disguise.
Vacation for most means a time to relax.
I relax. I sleep some more. I exercise.
And my discipline in the face of the fattening disappears.
I lose my uptight inhibited self during meals. And end up consuming way more than I want to.
This is all embarrassing to even admit- especially as a former fat person.
I feel guilty, less than and frankly like a loser that I can’t keep my f$&king mouth shut during vacation.
Theoretically I COULD just say “no thank you” to the bread, french fries and chocolate. But instead I find myself walking into the sundry shop and purchasing the chocolate.
Oh. My. Gd.
Vacation gives me too much time to think.
Solitude renders me vulnerable to an abundance of emotions.
I don’t want to have any more emotions.
Chocolate is yummy.
My brother (@BrianKoppelman) tweeted yesterday “I might be the world’s worst dieter. That’s all. Carry on.”
No Brian, we all suck at dieting because dieting sucks. Especially when food has quietly been a coping mechanism for years.
I have to diet because I can never be fat again.
My life depends on it.
But man, the bumps, struggles, cake and candy along the way are brutal.
And the necessity to get on the scale throughout my vacation definitely lessens my good time.
But what else can I do?
My diet starts tomorrow.