Broken Promises

Kristine, Ruthie, Brenda and me before the race Saturday evening.

I left this blog last week stating that I wouldn’t be posting for two days, but promising to be back to it after my weekend at the beach. I also promised not to eat too much.

These, of course, were more promises to myself than to anyone else. And I broke them both.

What I’ve learned is that I just simply don’t do well when I travel and I don’t do well when I give myself permission to not track what I eat. This is especially true when there are certain foods in my face. In this case, it was Oreos, granola bars, muffins, cheese and Triscuits and Doritos.  I ate entirely too much of all of it and I’m kicking myself.

And I was left after my weekend feeling too tired to move, which means I haven’t exercised since I ran the 5K Saturday night (well, mostly walked — see the above reference to overeating and add in ridiculously hot and humid conditions and blisters forming on the bottom of my left foot). But I did complete it, and considering I walked more than a mile of it and finished in 35:54, I didn’t do too terribly.

I want to say that this weekend, I’ll be right back on the wagon, but I’m going out of town again next week and I know what that means. I need to figure out how to get a grip on that. I need to learn that just because it tastes good doesn’t mean I have to eat it all.

I’ve read several places recently that French women stay slim because they’ve learned that the last bites do not taste nearly as good as the first, so they only have a few bites of whatever they may be eating. We’re all supposed to learn from that and stop eating because it doesn’t taste as good. The problem is, for me that just is not true. If I enjoy the taste of the first bite of something, I enjoy the last bite just as much — no matter what it is. I don’t eat because I feel sad, happy, bored, whatever. I eat for two reasons: First because I’m hungry; second because it tastes good. I rarely put that first bite in my mouth for any reason other than hunger. It’s the taste that keeps me going.

And because I spent so much of my life able to eat anything I wanted and as much as I wanted, I often convince myself that I can still do that. Somewhere in my mind, there’s a switch that hasn’t. I don’t know what to do about that.

I’m frustrated. From my highest ever weight, I lost 34 pounds. I’ve regained over the last three years 18 of that. I don’t want to regain any more. I want to lose it again, and then some. I need strength and willpower.

Can that be given?

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