Bear with me here, I’m typing on my iPad and, being an old-fashioned girl, I much prefer to blog on a PC but I honestly haven’t had the energy lately. True to form, I set up this blog with gusto and really enjoyed writing the first bits and pieces. No sooner had I done that, though, insecurity and paranoia set in: I can’t write. I’m boring. Nobody is interested in what I’ve got to say. Blah blah.
You know what? Maybe this is horrendously dull but people will read it if they choose to. Writing really made me feel better last week so I’m going to power on through, drivel or otherwise.
It’s actually really difficult deciding what to write about. I have a million random little musings going on in my head at any one time but turning them into coherent text is tricky. I usually try to come up with a fairly snappy title which will spur me on, and this one came about when I was sitting at my aunt and uncle’s dinner table last Saturday.
We’d gone to visit them and afternoon had soon become evening, so my lovely uncle suggested getting some dinner. My conscience silently hoped he’d suggest going to the pub (think chicken and bacon salad, steak or gammon) but instead, as he and my aunt were fighting off nasty colds, he suggested fish and chips. My dad, who’s never been an ounce overweight in all his years, nodded enthusiastically while mum and I could only glance at each other in the knowledge that our collective willpower was about to be tested. No, I thought, life doesn’t stop when you’re losing weight, so I resolved to have scampi and mushy peas and mum did the same. I’m sure hardcore followers of the SW plan are wondering why I didn’t have fish and pull off the batter – it’s quite simple, I don’t really like fish shop fish, and frankly I feel like its sacreligious to not eat the batter. Go big or go home! Anyhow, I walked with my uncle to collect our dinner and dutifully stuck to the plan; chips weren’t a problem because my dad doesn’t eat many, so I just got a small portion to go with his fish. Of course, when I unwrapped our order back at the house, I found that instead of two portions of peas they’d given us one portion of peas and some curry sauce. I bloody love chip shop curry sauce, but polishing my halo I set it aside and shared out the peas between us. And here it began: the scampi and paltry portion of peas looked small and unappetising (I’m used to eating quite large portions with SW because I eat so much protein and veg) and in true chip shop fashion my dad’s portion of chips was huge. Sod it, I thought, a few cant hurt, and dished some up for mum as well. Stick with me here, there is a point to this running commentary of my dinner.
After dinner (during which the junk food pleasure sensors in my brain were going haywire) my uncle brought out a plate of Viennese whirls. Now, I don’t know about you, but Viennese whirls don’t really feature on my list of must-have fantasy foods. I’ve never woken up thinking about them
like I have McDonalds breakfasts. That said, when they’re in front of me and the jammy filling is seductively poking out from between the crumbly layers, the fattie in me can’t think about much else. Persevere I did, though, rationalising that if I had one (aside from the obvious) it would leave only one for my relatives to eat after we’d gone. Hurrah, victory is mine. At least it was until the chip-guilt started to creep in. It continued to fill my brain with negative thoughts to the point where I sought solace in the biscuit tin when we got home.
So the point of all this rambling is to demonstrate a situation which I’m sure is familiar to many people in a lifelong love/hate relationship with food: why, oh why, when we’re feeling guilty about what we’ve eaten do we then sabotage ourselves?! It’s a vicious and self-destructive cycle with no hope of a positive outcome. I consider myself to be a fairly intelligent human being, so why is it that I lack the emotional maturity and fundamental self-respect that it would require to stop doing this to myself? Guilt has no positive effect on those trying to improve their health, but it’s so overwhelming. I used to think that it could be quite an effective springboard for change – not anymore.
Ironically, I’m a very forgiving person. I just find it so hard to be kind to myself.
I’m pleased to say that my eating habits have been far better today and that when I’ve finished writing this I’m going to treat myself to a bubble bath. Baby steps.