Yep, no question. I have lost at least 1,000 pounds.
The same ten pounds a hundred times…or more. That’s because old habits die hard.
When my 8% body fat husband goes out of town, I usually order a pizza, and when they ask if I would like to add a funnel cake to my order, I hate to be impolite. I eat most of it for dinner. Then, breakfast cold, the next day. Then, it’s gone. All of it. All by myself. You’d think I was 14 and this is my version of Risky Business.
And, I really like apple fritters. The kind that are day-old hard. Now don’t criticize me just yet. This is quite a step up from the Ding Dongs I used to devour. But I had my standards even then, preferring them only when they came into the 7-Eleven, fresh that day. I used to get a call from Fahwad, the clerk, who became surly with me during one late night trip where I stood, squeezing every Ding Dong on the rack, in search of one with that unmistakable “fresh squeeze” feel. I guess it was sort of like squeezing the bottoms of all the chocolates in the box, then leaving them crushed for the next person. Fahwad was not having it. So he got my phone number instead, to leave me voice mails about new shipments. Seriously. We did this for years until the 7-Eleven in that location became a 24 hr. vet clinic. Some people have divine, private wine cellars stashed in their homes.
Me. Ding Dongs. 7 Eleven.
But Hostess upped the wax coating to increase shelf life and therefore unacceptable hardness, so I said
“No more, mister.”
I just like junk. And tequila. In the form of margaritas. And, Snickerdoodles. I can eat a warm dozen in one sitting.
All that sugar. sugar. sugar.
Everything I have read about the evils of sugar makes me cringe. It wrecks your skin, aging it more rapidly than the sun, according to some reports. It makes your morning constitution almost impossible. It sends you into happy-dance orbit, for a short while but then soon thereafter you find yourself in a pre-menopausal, “murder-would-be-too-good-for-him” snarl. That pretty much covers, mind, body, and spirit.
Sugar is hidden in everything under the sun too. It’s even in mustard and ketchup, galore.
Love it all.
But I know it does NOT love me back. And, yet, here I am in confession.
So, here’s the thing. The grip to get is on how much I truly care about myself……in the long haul.
Succumbing to the thought/urge in the “moment” is the habit I have been wrestling with. And, the consumption of anything with sugar is the addiction. Pure and simple.
The THOUGHT/URGE is STEP ONE in the
YO-YO…which too easily becomes a habit.
The ACTION is STEP TWO, the other YO in the YO-YO.
You now have my unscientific explanation of
YO-YO dieting…thought plus action = 1,000 pounds later…and counting.
Actually, this vicious cycle is all about self-love. Are we really loving ourselves when we give into those momentary urges?
Some people think self-discipline is linked to denial or deprivation. But, in reality, self-discipline IS love in action. It’s keeping your inner kid from playing in the traffic, when the sugar truck is screeching down the street.
So, here I am…..needing to lose that same 10 AGAIN. I don’t really weigh that often but my fat and skinny jeans help send me the message, loud and clear. It’s time.
This time I am not hiding out. I am telling you about it….which is supposed to be the first step in changing a habit, particularly one that sabotages my most desired outcomes.
“You could have this NOW, or you could have the result you REALLY want later….which would you prefer?”
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