My dad loves reality TV. (Sad I know, but ours is not to judge!) One of them is Extreme Makeover: Weight Loss Edition on ABC. It’s really not a terrible show, maybe a little overly dramatic in some places, but it really can be very motivating to not so tiny people like myself.
I’ve written often on this blog, and have talked openly about my struggle with my weight.
I wouldn’t call it a struggle so much, because a struggle seems to indicate I am fighting with someone who is threatening me. I’m not being threatened by someone. And if you want to get all metaphorical about it “I’m battling the enemy within.” Blah, blah, woof, woof. Unless spoons are going to someday become sentient and stab gobs of cake into my mouth, I’m pretty sure I’m not in a struggle or being threatened.
Do I not like my weight? Yes, of course. But the number on the scale does not define me as a person. I am not trying to lose weight for some unattainable goal like a lover’s affection or a parent’s approval. (Protip: If they didn’t love you as you are before, sorry, they’re not going to care when you do.) I made the choice to just have less of myself on my body.
Also, as a writer, it’s almost a stereotype that we are big people. And somehow that’s okay.
During our time of writing Some Assembly Required, I would get stressed out about some event in my week. And some of them were some pretty major and upsetting things. I would vent at her and tell her I was going straight for the cake. She’d send a kind word and a reminder food never solves anything.
My link with food is entirely emotional. Stressed. Eat. Bored. Eat. Happy. Eat. Angry. Eat. Sad. EAT ALL THE THINGS.
Under doctor’s orders, I’m now on a strict no-sodium diet. Which actually doesn’t suck as much as I thought it would! Weight had been coming off at a steady pace!
So quite understandable why the scale stopped. I don’t mean that in a “oh it’s okay! I understand!” way. I mean in a “you bet that ain’t sugar free and skim” way.
So, the scale is “stuck” (picture the finger quotes), and of course I know why. Because when I stop making progress on something, anything I get discouraged and I run into the arms of Mr. Cinnamon Dolce Fappuccino. He gets where I’m coming from.
But I decided he and I really need to see other people. Because five minutes in a car at a stoplight doesn’t do it for anyone. Amirite?
I decided to try a new trick, because I am an omg killer night snacker. No chip bag is safe in the darkness. I’m also super hungry during the day. So I decided to give it a go with eating a large breakfast, a smaller lunch, and a light dinner.
I’m no longer hungry all day. As a matter of fact, if I see anything that resembles ice cream, cake, coffee, or even a doggie bag of a half of prime rib, I just want fall over from being so not hungry.
That prime rib thing really happened by the way. Sacrilege, I know.