Foodie, Formerly Fat

So last week I laid bare my soul to you with the declaration that I had been gaining weight and was trying to right this ship before it plunges over the falls. I also promised to keep you updated so here it goes. Ok, so, I lost 1.5 pounds this week. That gives me a total of 9.5 pounds lost in 5 weeks. Not too shabby. My husband thinks I should be really proud of myself. And I am. Mostly. I mean yes, I am. But I’m not. Just bear with me.

This is part of my cycle of dieting and I’m putting it out there because if I keep it locked up in my brain it makes me crazy and therefore do crazy things. I’m in the doldrums of weight loss. Any weight loss attempt is a roller coaster and to borrow a phrase from Douglas Adams, right now I’m in my “long dark tea-time of the soul”.

There’s that first week of a diet where I’m struggling day to day to break old habits and I feel a sense of accomplishment just for getting through the day with 75% of my daily goals met. The weight lost that first week is usually about a pound, and while feels like an affirmation that I’m on the right track I’m not willing to get excited yet.

Week two is when I do everything perfectly and lose about 4 pounds which makes me, despite my brain knowing it’s just water weight, get excited about the prospect of losing 4 pounds a week every week. No matter how much I tell myself not to go there, I do. Then I brow-beat myself out of that mentality by “preparing” myself for the certainty that the following week I will have either not lost anything or gained something back. Of course, the third week I do still lose about a pound and the relief I feel is profound and I’m filled with gratitude that I finally feel as though I’m doing something right.

Week four then becomes the challenge. I’m on the right track, I’ve got pounds lost to prove it but then I start to get impatient. I’m doing everything right why isn’t this happening faster?! I lost 2 pounds? Great! But, damnit! I wanted to lose 4 again! But, I know in my heart that I’m on track and I pull it together and stay on track.

By week five I’ve usually got enough pounds lost that it starts to show and I can feel the difference on my body and I’m happy. But then I start to look at the scale and instead of seeing how much I’ve lost I start to actually look at the number and to see how much I have left to go. This is what I think: “This time last year I was 10 pounds less than this. I’m going to have to lose another 10 pounds just to be back where I already was last year. Then I’ll have another 10 to go before I reach my goal. This is going to take forever.”

I keep on chugging but feel discouraged for no good reason. I lost 1.5 pounds this week damnit. Discouragement is not called for.

So today I pledge to myself that I will stay encouraged and proud. 1.5 pound this week is worth celebrating. A running total of 9.5 pounds lost is worth celebrating. Yes, there are at least 18 pounds to go, but I’ll get there sooner if I’m proud of 1.5 pounds and not pining for 4.