February 10, 2017
I haven’t weighed myself since May of last year. I can’t believe it’s been that long. There was one time around October that I was at the health center and they weighed me. I knew they were going to, and I told myself I would just close my eyes. But who was I kidding? If I step on a scale, I’m looking. I’m not going to say I was devastated, but I was not happy. I didn’t become crazy or depressed or react in my usual unreasonably drastic way. I was able to let it go, as best I could.
Last night, I dreamed about a scale. Or rather, there was a scale in my dream. It lasted for a while, too, but I never ended up weighing myself. Instead, I woke up thinking about it, wanting to weigh myself and then immediately feeling scared at the thought of it. Because I know it’s not about the number, it’s about how I feel. But sometimes, I just feel like I want to be skinny. And I hate that I feel that way.
I’ve made so many improvements over the past year – namely the calorie counting. I have completely stopped, and I’m so happy for it. Not to say I don’t still plan most of my meals, because I do, and I still think about food a lot, and maybe not always in healthy ways, but when I do plan, I try to think more about good, whole foods that will make me feel good. Or pizza. Which is fine, too. It’s good to enjoy foods I like and not feel guilty about it afterwards.
Unfortunately, I still find myself using food/alcohol as a reward. Like, I deserve this. So I guess the real problem is that I haven’t completely let go of my obsession.
Another victory is my alcohol intake. Last year at this time, I was drinking almost every day, sometimes a bottle of wine a night (a lot of times). Now, I typically don’t drink three days a week, and more recently, for the other four days that I do, I only buy two bottles of wine to last me for the rest of the week. (I mean, sometimes, nobody’s perfect.) So not only am I drinking a lot less, I’m waking up earlier and am able to be much more productive, if not just happier and more energized.
I know I’ve made leaps and bounds from where I was, and sometimes I’m OK with the slow progress. But other times, like today, I want to get on that scale, and then punish myself, and beat myself up, and count my calories, and eat the same thing every day, and seclude myself from everybody. All in the name of losing weight. And how awful and sad and exhausting does that sound?
I know that I don’t want to go back to living that way, I know that I will never be able to go back to that, but sometimes I want to.