February has been a period of blatant teenage-inspired petulance. For the last three weeks I have been “doing” weight watchers but unlike the months gone past where I have been successfully losing weight, this month my energy has been spent on lies, manipulation and pointless negotiation. Such arguments between Me, Myself and I have included:
- Convincing myself that a packet of white fluffy rolls are ok, finding myself halfway through said packet, panicking, then running the remainder under the kitchen tap
- Telling myself that I should probably plateau at current weight, should new, cheap flimsy dress sit loosely on ample bosom rather than stretch across appealingly (so mistaken on all fronts!)
- Presenting what I thought was a very convincing argument: I’ll get fitter and exercise after I’ve lost weight; I’ll lose weight after I exercise….hmmm
- It’s perfectly justified to eat lunch after a five hour fast, so it’s equally valid to have a light meal at midnight seeing as the last time I ate was 7pm…my body needs it, I’m telling you!; And the real cracker
- Berating myself for not moving enough whilst finding comfort under a fuffy doona; “Ah…num, num, num, num….”
All this energy spent lying to myself only helps to maintain my current weight and therefore my unhappiness and ultimately, a sense of failure. Why oh why would I be so self destructive? There are those that eat well, exercise, read, talk and socialise with confidence. To you, Congrats! There are so many of us though that choose our poison, hell bent on preserving the status quo. The toolman is very good at recognising these toxic patterns in his life and annoyingly and consciously works towards breaking these shackles…which only serves to highlight my inadequacies.
Then again, he’s my husband and I’m happy for him and his highly evolved state…umm yeah…absolutely…
So this week, I’m breaking it down so even an ape couldn’t get it wrong. It’s shameful that I’ve got this low (and I can hear even the dearest of loved ones sighing with exasperation) but it’s all I can do to get the momentum going. There’s nothing witty or clever about it; diarising the most basic of tasks certainly doesn’t make for good reading. For those of you whom understandably couldn’t be less interested in my goals for this week, LOOK AWAY NOW:
- Walk! Four times, four hours, would be lovely.
- Limit food consumption to 20 points (Weight Watchers System)
- Track food consumption like “skinny girl gone mad”
- Drink 2L of that scrumptious stuff we call mineral water (without the ginger wine snuck in would be an added bonus)!
So if you happen to stumble upon a snoozing Hauling, permission to propel foot up enormous bum granted. And if you see me strolling through suburban streets on Wednesday with a gorgeous Eurasian baby, I’m exercising, not pretending he’s mine…
Note to concerned over-eating anonymous professionals: You don’t need to tell me, there will be no more rolls passing across the threshold of my front door.