I’d like to think today was a my turning point.
I woke up, I was going to fast until midday (intermittency fasting, tick in that diet box), have a frittata (protein, no carbs, diet box tick), go to the gym (exercise box, tick), salad for dinner, begin fast at 8pm. I KNEW because I was off work, the challenge to boredom eat would be there, I knew I’d try and persuade myself to go to the shop to buy sandwiches and chocolate for lunch, I knew the traps and habits were there. Yet I still did it. WTF. I was literally saying in my head “I’m so glad I don’t smoke, coz I could never quit”. I bought my lunch (sushi, carbs), I bought TWO bags of chocolate (because this fat bitch don’t do halves), and crisps. Diet out the window. Square one, hello again. Then husband came home, so secret eating ceased, gym was skipped, salad was made and eater, fast resumed at 8pm.
I don’t have an unhealthy relationship with food. I don’t demonise carbs, I know I need to strike a healthy balance. We meal plan, we factor in fruit and veg. It’s literally like I can’t resist the ‘bad’ stuff, and when I break, I break HARD. One small cheeky chocolate bar isn’t enough, its a chocolate bar, a sharing bag of galaxy and a milkshake, then hide the evidence in the bin so husband doesn’t find it. I’m ashamed when I break, I consider making myself throw up, but can’t bring myself to do it and go down that road. I feel shit afterwards, what’s the point?
I’ve lost weight before, and that’s why I want to do it. It’s not for anyone else, its literally to make myself feel good, healthy, strong. I’ve got obesity in the family, and watching family members joints give out due to weight is fucking terrifying. I want my clothes to fit me better. I want to feel like my clothes look good. I’m not looking for thin and toned, I’m just looking for less. And control.
