marmite breath slept here

Fine, I admit it!  It was me!

I don't understand how I can be an absolute gluttonous pig for an entire lifetime, er, weekend (using last weekend of drinking and eating as an example) and LOSE weight, and then be very good for a few days and gain it.  I'm so confused!  Also, confusion makes me eat a lot, so I end up botching my entire plan.  I am so stupid!!!!

I've started using the Google 15 Weight Tracker every day.  It was all fine and dandy on Monday morning.  I was afraid to weigh myself, but I was brave (bearing in mind I had eaten approximately 900 calories per minute over the past few days) and was shocked to see that I weighed 121. (Remember the great PMS Tragedy of 2006??)  Okay, I thought.  Awesome.  I (very smugly) entered my weight in the tracker and for the rest of the day (walking around in my skinny jeans, which, while they in no way fit comfortably, I can now get over my legs) said things to myself like, "Perhaps my metabolism is speeding up?" or "I'm finally turning into one of those people who can eat whatever she likes and not gain any weight!"

Oooh, it's so sad to look back on smarmy behaviour and realize that you are an idiot.

The week progressed, and I dutifully stuck to my points.  I quickly got over the idea that I was one of those lucky people, and was very, very good.  In fact, there were lots of times when I was making food for the kids and really wanted to just be a pig, but didn't.  I didn't even allow one chip to pass my lips (I have a weakness) and I was so proud of myself.  But after a couple of days of practically saintly behaviour, I weighed myself.  The scales said 123.5lbs!!!!!!!

I entered that into the computer, and the weight tracker said, "Danger! You are headed away from your goal".

Excuse me?  What did you say?  You are a computer, for God's sake!  Keep your opinions to yourself!

Well, damn computer program!  How dare it judge me?  I was only slightly moving away from my goal.  And I was being good, so the scales were unfairly choosing that day to be faulty.  Still, it would be better the next day.  I had will-power.  I could stare any food in the face and be strong.  Unless said food is a carb.

Which is why the pasta salad the next day was a BAD idea.  In theory, I should despise pasta salad.  It's creamy. (I don't usually like creamy foods that are savoury.  See: Issues, Unreasonable)  It contains Ranch dressing.  But I got this recipe from the Mother In Law a long time ago, and I am always powerless to resist it.  It might not have been so bad if I'd used Fat Free Dressing, but I can't stand all the Fat Free stuff.  I'd rather have full fat and just a smaller portion.  But anyway.  I started out with a cunning plan, My Lord.   I would put pasta salad on my plate, but I would ONLY PORTION MYSELF THE VEGETABLES!  This was, obviously, a faulty plan on lots of levels.  First off, even the vegetables are drenched in ranch.  Second of all, the vegetables can't really be separated from the pasta without a fight, so in order to keep the peace, I had to put some pasta on my plate.

Stupid Nat.  *hits self in head with plate* Stupid, stupid Nat!

Because then, instead of eating a sensible portion and putting the rest of it in Tupperware for tomorrow, I ate the lot.  Standing up.  At the kitchen counter.  WITH A SERVING SPOON!!  AAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!! 

And then, dear readers, it was ON!  Carbfest 2006! 

Yesterday I baked bread.  I am such a fool.  And then I made American biscuits.  I have been in love with them since the first summer that I moved to the States.  I had a friend called Debra Feimster, and her Mum made the most sinfully crumbly biscuits.  I always try to replicate them, and I do come close, but never completely.

Yesterday I made them and told myself, "They are for the KIDS!" and then I had to try one, of course, to check the texture.  It was delicious, but I do miss the roof of my mouth.  The second one tasted good too, because it was cool enough to handle, but still hot enough for the real butter to melt onto it.  The third one was just to see if they tasted good with jam.  And yes, I had to have a fourth, because, as any biscuit afficionado knows, the real test is if they taste good when they're unsliced and unadorned with any condiments.  *sigh*

When I fall off the wagon, I fall off in spectacular fashion.  I ate non-stop until I went to bed.  I ate a huge bowl of Muesli, snack cakes, popcorn, bread.  I was saying, "Screw you, scales!" and flipping the bird at the entire unfair world.  The news of the week was weighing on me (pardon the pun) and the food helped.  I haven't blogged about the Horrible News This Week because I'm still processing it in my brain.  I'm not excusing my piggishness (is that a word?) but I'm just trying to understand why I do it.  And why I end each day with the promise that I am getting back on my points tomorrow. 

Last night I told myself that this was just ridiculous.  I lost nearly forty pounds on Weight Watchers after Tom was born, (in case you're wondering, this is what spurred me into action) and I kept it off, until last year.  I don't know what changed.  I got lazy, I guess.  I let worry and stress take over, and I eat.    But I am determined (as is every other person on the planet trying to get healthy--not thin, you understand) to stick to the plan and think about the big picture.

Yes, as I told myself last night, life IS short.  I should enjoy my food.  I should take pleasure in the simple things, like a bowl of cereal while watching What Not To Wear.  But I need to live my life assuming that my life will be long, and that I am going to be around for my kids.  I need to keep an eye on my cholesterol and my BMI.  I need to do it. 

Usually the weekends are rocky.  I tell myself that Monday is when I'll start again, and then I don't make good choices all weekend.  Not this time.  This time, I'm going to tell myself that there's no time like the present.   I don't want to be a Yo-Yo dieter, I don't want to obsess about food.  I just want to enjoy it, and I need to exercise more, and I want to be a good example for my kids.  Today is the day.  And putting it on my blog just makes me more accountable.  I hate to fail.  Especially in front of other people. 

This morning, after two days of eating with reckless abandon, I weighed 123lbs.  See?  How does that make any sense for me to have LOST weight?  I don't get it.

I wasn't happy at 108.  I wasn't happy at 138.  I wish I didn't care about this.  But I do. 

(I know that I seem shallow and pointless.  I see it)