There was no need for atmospheric music building to a
crescendo this morning. I knew the outcome of Wednesday Weigh In long before I
jumped onto the scales. For the third straight week there is a gain and whereas
there have been no alarm bells ringing out in previous weeks, my attention is
now firmly been gripped. A tipping point was reached a couple of days ago, and
now I’m consciously moving back into diet mode. There is no point in talking
about maintenance if all I’m doing is piling on the pounds.
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| Not a giant leap for mankind, but an unwelcome upward trajectory |
I stopped the rot on Monday night, putting an end to the
feasting that has become daily ritual of late. While it was too late to reverse
the effects of the preceding days, it felt good to call it quits. It is a very
strange feeling knowing that you are hurting yourself with food, but when I’m
on a downward spiral, I find it very difficult to stop. Although never formally
identified, I tick most of the characteristics of a binge eater. Compulsive overeating
is more than just seeking comfort from a box of chocolates or a tub of ice
cream. I certainly never got to 24 stone through indulging in just an
occasional treat. It is a constant need to eat, whether hungry or not, despite
knowing that I don’t need to.
When I find myself rummaging through cupboards grabbing
handfuls of breakfast cereal, I know there is a problem. Recognising it as an
issue is the first step to addressing the situation. I’ve become adept at
dieting through adopting a tight disciplinary approach to what I consume, thus
suppressing compulsion. My attitude towards weight maintenance has probably
hindered me. I was supposed to be keeping things steady at 14 stone rather than
looking for further weightloss. Psychologically I think this was a green light
for my defences to drop and with broken sleep thrown into the mix, I cooked up
a nice big portion of dieting sabotage.
The good news is I feel I’ve emerged from the slump. Yesterday
I didn’t deviate from my three meals, barring a couple of mouthfuls of my
eldest son’s leftovers. I rejected biscuit and chocolate overtures from
colleagues. I kept my grubby mitts away from the cupboards apart from when
there was legitimate reason to do so. I feel like I’ve re-established control
and pushing this dieting juggernaut back on track. Even the little man obliged
last night giving me a whole night in my own bed for the first time in quite a
while.
