They say half the battle is knowing what the problem is. That is so untrue. I have the knowledge: I have tons of Cooking Light magazines, Weight Watchers cookbooks, a B in a nutrition class I took in college. I know what the problem is.
It’s emotional eating.
One of the times before when I lost weight, I determined this. Stay with me, because it’s tricky: Eat when you’re hungry and don’t eat when you’re not. I know! Genius, aren’t I? Making that little yet huge lifestyle change made a positive difference quickly. Of course, making better food choices helped, too, but doing that was the main thing.
When I have a bad day, when I’m irritated, when I’m lonely, the very first thing I crave is food. Usually something fried. Or otherwise fat-laden, like cheese pizza.
When I’m thrilled about something, when I’m in a good mood, then I like to call a friend. To do what? Go out to eat, of course!
When I’ve worked hard, when I’ve followed through and actually completed a project, well, it’s time for a big meal or a nice food treat, because I “deserve” it, you know. I’ve “earned” it.
My picture of indulgence is me, my comfy chair, a big thick book, and a bowl or plate slap full, so I can eat while I read, combining two of my favorite things. Learning not to react and follow long, long established habits is terribly hard.
There was a great article in Oprah’s magazine months ago about habits and why it’s hard to make new ones. Not that I can remember what it said exactly, except things like persistence, discipline, and perseverance were involved. I know this. My logical mind knows this. My reactive one, while learning, is slow to change, even while knowing better. Take yesterday for instance. It was not a good day. (I whined about it here.) Nothing major, nothing I really should have been bent out of shape about, just general cruddiness. For lunch I had a half of a turkey sandwich on wheat, one serving of chips. And a Payday candy bar. Yeah, I know.
I think I had a point here where I was going, but the life of me, I don’t know what it was. Now that I’ve got it down in black and white, it seems pretty simple – cut that crap out!
Monday was weigh in day. It was with fear and trembling that I stepped onto the scale. After showing off Thanksgiving morning things went south for three consecutive days. Yet the scale indicated I’d lost about 1.5 pounds. I don’t know how this can be. I’m sore afraid that this coming Monday, when I weigh, it may well reflect last week’s indulgences and sloth. Because this week? I have had opportunities to do a ten minute workout. Yet I haven’t.
Early morning is when I usually work out, yet I’ve had trouble sleeping for several days and thus, trouble getting up in the morning. In other words, I’m too lazy to get up and do it.
This morning I got up a couple of minutes and did the little warm up to the routine. Not the actual workout, mind you, but the warm up. Is that lame or a baby step? When does it get to the point that baby steps don’t count anymore?