So, (deep breath signifies long story ahead) long time readers will remember that I lost 50 pounds after my 40th birthday and was going pretty strong (despite the frustrating plateaus along the way) right past my 41st birthday up until our trip to Israel. In Israel we stayed at a lot of nice hotels that left a lot of nice chocolate lying around and I indulged. Except that chocolate was just the beginning. Once I got off that sugar free wagon, the whole ordeal just snowballed. I managed to get off the sugar temporarily but that was short lived. When we took that boat trip in July to Alaska there were baskets of irresistible candy and sugar coated dried fruit every few steps through out the boat. I probably gained 10 pounds on that trip alone. Then when we came up to utopia, and the kids were really into making s’mores on the fire pit I had made with my babes, well, you can imagine how that went for this sugar addict. There were marshmallows along with all the chocolate. By the time last September rolled around I had regained about 20 or 25 pounds of that lost 50.
Then I went home from utopia, felt physically worse and worse, got diagnosed with that intestinal disorder, put grandma in the assisted living, injured my ankle on that @#$%^&* water slide, heard mom’s fatal diagnoses, and generally ate myself through the whole school year. Food as a tool for coping with any and all of life’s curve balls helped me regain the entire 50 pounds plus 2 more to boot.
I so didn’t want to admit my failure to myself. Every time I had to change wardrobe season’s I had to buy a new set of clothes because before I kept giving all my fat clothes away as I lost all the weight. Last April I had to buy all new clothes when we went to the Bahamas. Being in between sizes I opted for the larger and more comfortable size. When I pulled those previously comfortable shorts and pants out to wear them again two short months later in June, they barely closed. I even burst one zipper open on one of the less previously roomy pants. I couldn’t believe it. I refused to buy myself more new and even larger shorts.
When we got up here for another summer in utopia I started to binge some more until one night when I ate so many marshmallows that I was still nauseous the next morning. On that nauseous morning I decided to get off the sugar again. Now it’s been about 6 weeks off of the sugar and I feel great. My head is sharper, I am not wallowing in daily guilt and my shorts fit again. I wasn’t going to weigh myself because I want to focus on feeling good rather than a random number, but the last time I was home, the husband said he could see a difference (and I wasn’t even asking), and since he who never sees a difference spontaneously saw a difference, I decided to step onto the scale and prayed for the best. The numbers were good, I lost 12 pounds, which is the 2 over the regained lost 50 and 10 more too.
I still have to work on the volume of food issue, and am planning on focusing more on that this year, as well as getting my butt moving again, as I ended up taking the whole summer off from exercise between my ankle and now the pinched nerve in my neck. I still do not want to weigh myself, I just feel like watching the numbers always ends up getting me frustrated and I have to concentrate on the routine that will get me where I want to be no matter how long it takes.
That is where I am.