Monday, 27 April 2009

Welcome to the barf zone

I was doing rather well. I was getting more exercise in. I was keeping more or less to my 1200 cal self imposed limit - with a little variation that I could live with on cycling days. I was logging what I was eating on Food Focus and I know I went over on Saturday but it wasn't panic eating, I'd decided that I'd have a nice meal on a Saturday, I didn't go mad and I felt I'd enough calories in the bank to compensate. And my weight was going down - albeit in its usual tortoise fashion.

And then today happened. I can't even put my finger on what the trigger was. I didn't cycle as I was meeting a friend after work and was instantly anxious about not buying in those calories. So I decided to walk in c3 miles in my MBTs as a gesture. I stuck my sunglasses in my bag and headed on to the tube (hellish, squashed, rude people - the usual). When I emerged at London Bridge the season had changed. It was no longer late Spring but Autumn. Or possibly Winter. I shivered in my denim jacket (cycling means that the shoes and jacket you want to wear are always in the wrong place) and hoped for the sake of my painstakingly blow-dried hair (and rollered and straightened) that it wouldn't rain. Then it started raining. A few drops - just enough to turn my hair to a frizzball. I didn't have an umbrella. It got harder. I wrapped my pashmina around my head to try and avert hair disaster. It highlighted that my jacket was a bit too tight. The rain got quite heavy. I abandoned my walk 2 miles in and dashed off for the bus. I got to work to find that one of my long gold dangly earrings (that bf had bought me for Christmas - and chosen himself!) was gone. My boss, newly back from holiday, sympathised and gave me a present of a jar of hazelnut/honey paste. I don't like honey, I don't like Nutella but I opened that jar and ate a third of it. It was too sweet, even for me. I felt sick. And guilty. I rummaged in my bag and found the earring! Against all odds, it had fallen into my bag. Much rejoicing. I did a small jig on the spot. My colleague did that goal-scoring arm gesture that men do (bless him). I had a frugal lunch to make up for the hazelnut gunk. And then I ate the rest of the jar. Yes, 250g of sugar and nuts and honey. The old feelings of helplessness and dispair come crashing back. I don't want to think how many calories that was. Yes, have just broken off from this to bite the bullet and enter it into FF - 1333 cals if it's the same as nutella (which I imagine it is, roughly). Dear god, that's more than I eat IN A DAY.

I'm trying hard not to panic. I cannot allow this dash me off into a spiral of despair that culminates in me eating as much sugar and crap as I can without throwing up for however many days. I'm out at Wagamama tonight (with frizzball hair) and have researched and chosen the least calorific things on the menu. Then tomorrow I've got to get back to my dieting calm.

And that is the difference - sticking with the exercise and the control over calories feels calmer. Going off-piste in such an appalling, un-planned way feels terrifying, out-of-control and a whisker away from disaster. It feels as if I'm not in control any more and anything might happen. I have to battle this feeling - I'm trying to remain calm although I can feel the panic bubbling up. I don't think I'll be cycling tomorrow, looking at the weather. It's a shame, that would help I think.

Weekend update - the friends didn't come and I dissuaded bf from going out for Chinese anyway. We had a nice, indulgent but healthy meal at home. With wine. And pudding (meringue (55cals), cream and raspberries). Then we went for a cycle ride yesterday for 2 hours. Late in the afternoon we went through Canary Wharf and what I assume was the tail end of the Marathon. It was mostly very overweight women limping along. They had a long way to go and you could see every step hurt. I didn't know whether to admire their courage and optimism or despair at what appeared to be a total lack of understanding of the training required for such an undertaking.

I feel sick. Physically and emotionally.


Lesley said...

Wow. A spectacular falling off the wagon but an instant jumping back onto it. That is something to be celebrated. Do you remember Beck talking about not letting an isolated failure turn into a disaster and you seem to have done just that (NOT let it...!).

Take that as the positive it is and put the choc/honey abberation behind you. Well done for taking responsibility and blogging so promptly. It's tricky to do.

Everyone has difficult days, hang tight (you could add a high-five if the manly fist-pumping gesture from earlier wasn't enough...!.

Lesley xx

Mrs said...

Brilliant. You have named and shamed the jar of goodness knows what!

Lesley is right - you have got back on the wagon.

Practise, practise, practise. It's the only thing to do. I think this will prove to be a huge turning point; the stuff made you feel ill. And you really didn't like that feeling. Your other way - cycling and managing - suits you better.

Take away - from today - the fact that you moved on. And sharpish!

Big kiss.

Mrs Lxxxxxxxxx