I just got an email that all pizzas ordered online from Domino's are 50% off for an entire freakin' week! No way!!
Oh wait. See? This is what gets me in trouble. I don't mind eating Brussels sprouts (with bacon) or kale shakes (with blueberries),but I DO love me some pizza. And blueberry cobbler ice cream. (Thanks kids!) And Klondike Bars. (Thanks, husband!)
For me, it's not a matter of eating healthier. I have all that carrot juice and broccoli thing going. It's the "no more sucking chocolate sauce out of the bottle in the evenings while the kid is (finally) in the shower" thing that gets me.
In fact, most of the calories I eat are consumed between evening and bedtime. I'm tired, stressed, bored. Maybe a cookie will perk me up and make me feel happier.
It's like quitting smoking. There are time/place triggers. I'd look up strategies for stopping smoking, but you know they'd say things like, "Go for a walk." And then I'd have to kick someone. Cause walking in my McNeighborhood is boring and depressing. Bah humbug. And pass the mincemeat pie. With whipped cream, please.
Did Kubler-Ross mention anything about the whining phase?
Monday, March 16, 2015
Sunday, March 15, 2015
On the Five Stages of Grief and Weight Loss
Okay, so I only use this blog when I'm upset and no one else wants to hear about it. Like now.
Turns out that I'm not just overweight -- I've crossed over into obese. Mind you, I'm six feet tall, so I coasted for quite a while. I have places to hide fat that you don't even know about. But eventually, I hit a tipping point, and become roly and poly.
Hi, I'm Mom... and I'm fat. ("Hi, Mom!") Yes, fat. The kind of fat that causes Scandinavian children to stop, gawk and take pictures of us in American airports. (Ooh. I just Googled, "I Sinterklass thin?" and got an eyeful of Swedes in black face. Ooh. Bad.) Yes, I'm not just fat, I'm American fat. Greatest-Nation-In-The-World fat. Fat.
I did the math. If I give up all white foods, sugars, and fried foods, I can lose a pound a week, and be only "overweight" by, say, September. If I keep it up through Christmas, I may sneak into the top of the "healthy" range by spring of 2016. Then what? Then, I get to keep it up for the rest of my frikkin life? How much does that suck?
Unless I'm mistaken, I've moved past the "denial" phase of weight loss and straight onto the "anger" phase. Next up? Bargaining: "If I go gluten-free, will that take care of it?" And everyone's favorite, depression. "Oh God, how much does this SUCK?! Kill me now!"
So, bear with us here. I'm hoping we get to acceptance soon...
Turns out that I'm not just overweight -- I've crossed over into obese. Mind you, I'm six feet tall, so I coasted for quite a while. I have places to hide fat that you don't even know about. But eventually, I hit a tipping point, and become roly and poly.
Hi, I'm Mom... and I'm fat. ("Hi, Mom!") Yes, fat. The kind of fat that causes Scandinavian children to stop, gawk and take pictures of us in American airports. (Ooh. I just Googled, "I Sinterklass thin?" and got an eyeful of Swedes in black face. Ooh. Bad.) Yes, I'm not just fat, I'm American fat. Greatest-Nation-In-The-World fat. Fat.
I did the math. If I give up all white foods, sugars, and fried foods, I can lose a pound a week, and be only "overweight" by, say, September. If I keep it up through Christmas, I may sneak into the top of the "healthy" range by spring of 2016. Then what? Then, I get to keep it up for the rest of my frikkin life? How much does that suck?
Unless I'm mistaken, I've moved past the "denial" phase of weight loss and straight onto the "anger" phase. Next up? Bargaining: "If I go gluten-free, will that take care of it?" And everyone's favorite, depression. "Oh God, how much does this SUCK?! Kill me now!"
So, bear with us here. I'm hoping we get to acceptance soon...
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