I talked about my need for a new wardrobe here: www.sparkpeople.c
. That need became even more pronounced yesterday with an at-home donation pickup from some charity. Monday saw me veritably dancing around the house in glee, gathering the vast majority of my clothes while inwardly proclaiming "You have no place in my life! Get out get out get out!" (Woulda gotten rid of more, too, but for the nekkidness factor. The remaining clothes are on borrowed time.)
Almost talked myself out of going to the Salvation Army today- it was beautiful outside, plus I had lotsa things to do at home - but no: re-clothing's more important now than ever before, and it's past time to do something FUN as a result of weight loss. I decided I would not try anything on unless I absolutely loved it. I spent way too long wearing stuff just because it fit. F*** that.
Surprisingly, I found a lot more awesome (!) finds than expected. I spent an hour there picking things out and trying them on. On the way home, I stopped at a consignment store I'd never visited, where I tried on a comparable number of clothing articles as what I'd tried on at SA.
I bought not one single item. Guess why yet?
Talk about a big, well established emotional eating trigger. Btw, probably 90% of my binges proceed from emotional eating. The rest stem from becoming insatiably ravenous as a result of going too long between eating.
By the time I left the consignment store, it'd been 5 hours since I'd last eaten. The dinner my family'd made that was awaiting me was spareribs and potato salad. There was no meat defrosted, next to no food in the house, not a d@mn idea in my head of a healthy, quick meal I could prepare - let alone any inclination to brainstorm or cook one.
I was eye to eye with one mother of an binge imminently looming.
Ok. Meat's out. Need protein. Carton of Greek yogurt at home. Leftover brown rice; I do NOT need any more grains. Stop at produce market. Get salad fixins and sweet potato. Come home and deliberately eat slowly and mindfully instead of inhaling the food.
Get outta the house for a walk. It's now cold. I don't wanna be outside. I'm physically tired, emotionally drained, and in pain: I don't wanna go to the gym.
Went anyway. (To add insult to injury, what should assail my nostrils the minute I walked through the doors but the smell of pizza wafting from the cocktail lounge. WTF.)
I write this as I'm walking on the treadmill at 4 mph on a 2% incline. (Ok, I'm not killin myself by any stretch - but to be fair, my pain doesn't approve of a faster speed or a higher incline for any prolonged time, anyway.) Momentarily, I'll be kicking this workout up a notch and pounding it out a little to give me the endorphins that I, quite frankly, deserve.
Today was a huge victory. Even though I didn't get any new clothes; even though trying on clothes spotlighted my regain in an unavoidable, very painful way, corroborating the messages from the scale, the measuring tape, and my noticeably larger second chin; it is a victory.
And when I get home, I am going to treat myself by putting on a movie, drinking herbal tea, and making some jewelry, refusing to feel guilty about indulging myself. Because I am awesome. I deserve to treat myself for tending to my needs instead of taking the easy approach.