We got back from Cape Cod on Saturday, and things looked okay on Sunday morning, only up by .2 and I'm thinkin', this isn't so bad.
Oh, no. That was *yesterday*.
Silly me. I am not allowed to lose weight anymore! So long as I remember that, I won't be disappointed, eh? Because, of course, I'm up another 1.4. Yes, oh, thank you, sir, may I have
I am tired of this nonsense.
I am in the final week of my "eat more, see if you can reset the setpoint" experiment, and so far it has been a big, fat failure. As in, I weigh what I did in April.
See why I'm a lil ticked off, eh?
I can totally see why, and how, people backslide (hell, I regained several times when I was younger. This isn't exactly unknown territory for me). I can see it, and I can hear it, the siren song of sugar and idleness and alcohol and oh, one won't hurt you!
And then suddenly it creeps back a little, but your clothes still fit, even though they don't look quite so hot, but you go with it, because a little play is natural. And then you're just wearing the stuff with forgiving waistbands and then you buy a few bigger pieces because you need a nice dress or a suit for a job interview or whatever and then you do that again and I swear it is like being a backsliding alcoholic because 14 is okay, and then 16 and 18 are okay and then 20 is okay because it's not the size 26 you used to be, eh? And then suddenly you're back to 26 but somehow that's justifiable because it's comfortable and you used to be that size and people loved you and you were fine and now you know better and you can do it again, right? Right?
Except you're older, and more cynical, and the low-hanging fruit was plucked a long, long time ago and you are staring at yourself in the mirror and thinking, I am too old for this nonsense, and I hate this, and I am tired of it and why can't life be easy like it used to be and oh poor me and God I hate my life and my clothes and my body and wouldn't it be good if somehow someone would invent a way to make it easier and I would do that except right now I just can't haul my butt off the couch.
Yeah, I know those thoughts, those feelings, those actions.
And they have crossed my mind lately. Let it go. Be Zen. Toss it all away.
It all seems so simple. Backsliding. For sliding is easy. You just let gravity take a hold of you and whoosh! You're back to where you were before except, for real, you're lower and the mountain is steeper and you just haven't got as much energy as you used to.
This morning, on the site that I manage, I had a discussion (I don't want to say fight although I was hopping mad) with a girl who was trying to convince people that REM sleep burns more calories than running on a treadmill. And she was annoying and self-righteous and I did my best to present the arguments and say, yes, you do burn a few calories at rest because your heart and your lungs are powered by calories, but to say that that is more than running is just downright irresponsible.
It got me angrier than it should have, and so I am attempting to at least be Zen about that.
As for being Zen about the weight gain, I am not Zen about that.
I am annoyed. I am tired, yes, but I am annoyed. And I am also -- and this seems a nutty thing to admit -- I am hurt.
I am hurt that my body has decided that, for whatever reason, eating well and exercising and drinking water and getting rest are just, somehow, not even cuttin' it for maintaining the weight loss I've achieved so far. I am hurt and I am angry. Something, someone, needs a spanking. Bad body! Bad! Naughty!
So, where do I go from here?
Back to basics? Uh, no, I've been at basics all along. Basics are not working for me. Basics are, right now, a rut. I track. I work out. I eat right. I drink the damned water (I live in the bathroom enough already, thank you very much). I watch the salt. I don't go carb-crazy.
Tomorrow (for today I have a job interview, and that is a part of why I am stressing right now, too), I return to my gym, and pound the treadmill, like I have been, like has not been working for me, for I know that giving up is not in the playbook, and depending on REM sleep for my weight loss is a lot like depending on elves to get it done.
Look out, naughty body. You're not gonna know what hit ya.