So the past week has been pretty bad for me and my diet plan.
For whatever reason, Crazed Addict Fatgirl took up residence in my thinking for several days. I got into this weird obsession with garlic bread and white wine, to the point where I deliberately went to the store and bought several loaves of the best frozen “cabatta bread” that I’d found. My mindset at that moment was, “Oh, I’m here now, the bread is here, I’ll buy it for those moments - few and far between - when I really ‘need’ to have some bread.”
But the truth was, knowing that it’s in the freezer has been pretty much all it’s taken to make popping a loaf in the oven something of a nightly ritual.
My weight numbers have reflected this indulgance, too. I was appalled this morning when I stepped on the scale and saw 164.5. That is a 3 pound gain since my original low of 161.5.
The truth of the matter is, I deserve every one of those pounds. Like I said, I’ve hit that Crazed Addict Fatgirl mentality, where I keep lying to myself. Yesterday, I thought I was thoroughly recommitted to getting back on track after a couple of days of late-night garlic bread binges (I don’t just eat one small piece - I tend to eat the entire loaf, or everything but the little portion that my husband takes).
But then last night, I had a particularly disturbing phone conversation with my mom. I love my mother with all my heart, but she’s definitely got her issues, one of which is a broken relationship with one of her brothers. In her defense, I’d say way more than half of the conflict is not her fault. Her brother - my uncle - has mistreated my mom since their childhood.
But he’s pretty much blown her off over the past few years, deliberately ignoring her and seeming to treat her as though she doesn’t exist. Last night my mom announced her plan to write her brother a letter and “tell him her side.” My mom has no sense of how to communicate, and the letters she’s written to other people have been simply horrible, seemingly abusive as she lashes out with some bizarrely irrational thought that her letter’s target is going to sit back and say to himself, “Aw, gee, she really IS right after all.”
That will never happen.
So anyway, last night my mom launched into this whole thing about how she was going to write my uncle a letter. She was really into it, completely fired up with fresh anger over the mistreatment she’s suffered from him, even things that happened 20 years ago or more.
I was trying to reason with her, asking her if this really was the legacy that she wanted to leave for her grandchildren? All these ranting letters to people? Why write letters if you truly don’t care about the person anymore, as she claims with respect to my uncle? Why?
She was totally irrational last night, and in the end, she turned her anger on me, accusing me of wanting to silence her and not let her express herself. This is simply not true. I’m actually only wanting to protect her from herself - from revealing to her brother that she actually cares enough about him, mean as he’s been to her over the years, to try to provoke a reaction out of him by antagonizing him with an angry rant.
When I hung up the phone, I was so upset that I could feel my heart racing. I felt completely frustrated by my mother’s bizarre insistance on her right to “tell her side,” and by her total refusal to see how fruitless this whole thing was going to be…in addition to the fact that it would only make HER look like the crazy one.
I got off the phone and immediately turned on the oven. Then I poured a half glass of wine and proceeded to bake and eat an entire loaf of cabatta bread.
Quite honestly, I deliberately CHOSE not to stop and think. I knew what I was doing was foolish and self-defeating, but I didn’t care. For the half hour or so that the bread and wine lasted, I felt just a little loopy and found some relief from the total stress of watching my mother try to destroy herself.
But then last night I felt terrible. After my glass of wine wore off, my stomach was really upset. I woke up a couple of times in the night with heartburn, and like I said, this morning I had a 3-pound weight gain.
So today I regrouped and thought about just what is going on. Why am I reverting to these crazy old habits, using food as a stress reliever or boredom reliever or whatever, and then LYING TO MYSELF that it’s not going to affect my weight? I seriously sat here and ate that bread last night while telling myself that it wouldn’t affect me.
But of course, it did.
Today I made a point to exercise before taking the kids to their 9 a.m. swim lesson. After their lesson, I swam a little with them. When I got home, I decided to run an extra mile, just because. That was an excellent run - I did the mile in less than 11 minutes and didn’t feel much strain or discomfort.
I stuck with my plan, even though I was once again tempted by those slices of birthday cake in the freezer.
I am determined, BOUND AND DETERMINED, that I am not going to let this slide. I am too happy with my smaller size, too happy with how good I look and feel, to allow Crazed Addict Fatgirl to dominate and control my thinking. I am sickened by the week of lies, by the week of telling myself that 1,000 calories (or more, last night I think it was closer to 2,000 calories) of garlic bread isn’t going to make a difference. What parallel universe am I living in, anyway, if I continue to do these kinds of things? It’s crazy.
It’s Crazed Addict Fatgirl. I thought I’d vanquished her, but she reared her ugly head. Gotta get rid of her again.
I can do it. I did it today, and it wasn’t that bad. I’m going to do it again tomorrow, too.