On the plus size, I mean side, I was exceptionally well-behaved over the weekend; I was quite proud of myself. And I’m sure no-one saw the ferocity with which my jaw was clenched to stop myself joining in to a temptingly boozy and intense debate on Saturday night. I was the only one without a hangover on Sunday but I did feel dull and sort of prudish that I wasn’t joining in on Saturday night. I had 4 glasses of wine over 2 nights – more than I’d usually allow myself (usual weekly maximum is 1 ½, very occasionally 2 if it’s 2 nights). And it’s not that I don’t want to – it’s just a weight loss thing. I also had a very small pudding (raspberry pannacotta - delicious) that my hostess had made. But I resisted all other carbs - even quietly and unobtrusively spurning a casual shared starter on Friday night when I was really quite hungry. SoD said I hadn’t lost any additional weight before I went from my WI – and then on Monday that I hadn’t put any on. That seemed reasonable and I was hopeful that my effort Monday – Wednesday would bring me a small result.
So now we come to the minus side: getting on SoD today apparently I’ve put ON that 1lb and ¾ I lost last week. Bringing my grand total to a 2lbs loss in 9 weeks. Every week I get on SoD and I force myself to bounce back, to hope for better things next week, to put my faith and trust in things working - soon. But today I can’t. Maybe it’s because I’m tired and ill – or maybe it’s because there’s now 9 months to the wedding. Maybe it’s all of these things. But today I want to cry. I couldn’t be bothered to put any lipstick on (very rare), I couldn’t hold my head up and meet people’s eyes. Hell, I can’t even meet my own eyes in the mirror.
And I don’t want to get married. That’s not true: of course I want to be married to P. But I don’t want to be a bride – I can’t be, not like this. I can’t even look at myself in a mirror, let alone try on dresses in front of people, let alone fork out an obscene amount on something that’s only going to increase my level of self-loathing and let alone have photos which I will not want to look at or risk a downward spiral of unhappiness that I simply cannot see how I can ever get out of. And what’s worse is that I KNOW this should be a joyful time – I am ruining this experience for myself just by being so fat and so incapable of being anything other than fat. I wish I could escape this pressure – it’s pressure that I thought would achieve me finally losing weight. But although I can say, hand on heart, that I put the effort in, all I ever seem to achieve is staying the same.
I wonder about LighterLife. Yes, I had a wretched time on it, didn’t lose like anyone else did and hated every moment on it. As did P. And yes, my metabolic specialist professor has literally begged me not to do it again as he blames the larger part of the suppression of my metabolism on that – but at least I did lose weight on it... Can I bear it? I’m not sure I could. And if I didn’t lose weight on it, I would be distraught.