Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Yesterday, right around 3 PM, a craving hit me.
When I binged, my biggest weakness was Little Caesar's pizza. There's a hot-and-ready location in our shopping center and it was the work of a few seconds to stop by, grab a soda and a pizza, hide out in my car and eat it.
All of it.
I'd feel terrible afterwards, bloated and waddling and swear I'd never do it again. But it happened at least once a week. The guilt was incredible and I could never look my husband in the eye after I'd done it for fear he'd ask me "What did you have for lunch?"
I finally came clean about it with him when we started talking about my losing weight and getting control of my spending. It was mortifying and I cried through the entire conversation. But I came clean.
I haven't eaten at Little Caesar's since I started losing weight, but the cravings are still there. Especially on rough days, when I'm emotionally strung out or if I didn't have a large enough lunch, all I can think about is a pizza. On a few occasions, I've been able to analyze the root cause of my craving, whether it's emotional or dietary in nature (and sometimes it is: I'm often satisfied by oatmeal with turkey bacon when I'm craving pizza).
Yesterday, the craving hit me so hard. I'd skimped on lunch and was looking at a likely dinner of spinach and cranberries. I wanted pizza. It was hot, easy, cheap. Disgusting, yes, but...
It took everything I had to keep myself from walking out the front door at dinner. I knew that if I left the building for any reason on my dinner break, I'd make bad decisions, so I forced myself to stay in, even though it meant sacrificing gym time. I knew I'd do something stupid if I walked out the door, even with the best of intentions.
Dinner was spinach and cranberries, wheat thins and two mini Twixes. I went home hungry, but I didn't go home guilty.