Remember when I said I would never go low carb again? Ha! Those were the days…
At the beginning of the year, I signed up for this program where basically, for every 5% body weight you lose in a three month period, you get $15. My second weigh-in deadline was coming up. 11 days before the deadline, I decided “Fuck it, I want that money!”, and despite having only lost 0.5% of the goal, set out to lose the rest (9lbs, for the sake of simplicity and honesty) in 10 days.
I wasn’t willing to try one of those bullshit lemon/maple/cayenne diets, but I figured eh, what the hell, maybe the low carb diet would be kinder to me this time. Maybe I was just remembering that period through jade-colored glasses.
Is this a healthy weight loss goal? Absolutely not.
What is this likelyhood that weight stays off? Well, in a perfect world it would. But then, in a perfect world I would be writing full time and paid well enough that the husband and I could quit our day jobs. Also, in a perfect world, I wouldn’t have to lose weight in the first place and could just go to our Caribbean vacation house when I’m stressed out instead of eating away my feelings. My hair will always look perfect and I’ll never have to deal with lines at the DMV or grocery store again.
Okay so far. Angry, but no angrier or angstier than normal. This is not exactly saying much, as I do not set the bar very high when it comes to maintaining a non-angry attitude.
The husband is amazing. Ate the rest of the pancakes that I was planning to have when I “forget that I was on a diet” until after breakfast. In a show of support has bought all sorts of snacks for me to eat this next week. This is probably partially a survival mechanism, as he was with me during the first time I went low carb and may be trying to stave off my low-carb induced homicidal tendencies. Whatever the motivation, I am deeply grateful.
Am okay until lunch time. What the fuck do you mean I can’t have cheese?! I
don’t remember that? Who can live without cheese?? Fuck. Can’t back out now on the first day. I’m still eating the turkey burger with cheese that the husband made me. There’s no bun, so paleo can eat my ass.
Have lost a few pounds, but life currently has no meaning. You win some, you lose some I guess. Was caught sniffing a bar of chocolate. Much shame ensued.
I dreamt that my husband was eating chocolate bars in front of me and kept trying trying get me to eat some as I sat there sobbing.
Later that day, I made some strange woman very uncomfortable as I sat there, staring at and pining after her chocolate milk.
Husband bought me a stress squeeze doll that’s in the shape of an adipose alien from Doctor Who. I know stress dolls are durable but still surprised that I haven’t popped it while watching food commercials.
Things that have made me irrationally mad:
Having to find tupperware that will fit in my lunch box
Things that have made me want to cry:
That blatantly emotionally manipulative commercial where the guy adopts a puppy
The cafeteria was out of tuna salad
IHOP commercials (side note: I don’t even actually LIKE the restaurant)
Having to decide between two different salads to take for my lunch before work
I find it interesting that, unlike the last time I tried this diet, I’m just too mopey/uninspired/tired to even be exceptionally upset about the food I’m not allowed to eat. Mostly I’ve just been too apathetic and despondent to be bothered to find things I want to eat, let alone be angry about what I can and can’t eat. I don’t have much energy and generally just want to flatline on the couch.
At this point I’m starting to doubt if I’m going to make my weigh in. That’ll be really disappointing when I really have worked hard for this. But ultimately, I realized it’s not so much about the not so significant cash reward as it is remining myself that I really do have control over what I do and don’t eat. Now it’s just about the principle of it.
Despite a lot of emotional turmoil, luck that my PMS bloating wasn’t too severe this month, and support from the husband and friends, I met my weight goal. Celebrate with tacos, a box of Mike and Ike’s, and a bottle of wine.
Would I do this again? Well, it wasn’t quite as painful as last time. The worst part of this last week and a half was that I wasn’t eating food I don’t like. I’ve been eating food that under any other situation, I’d be very excited to have. It’s just that I wasn’t “allowed” to have any other stuff. In fact, I plan to keep eating a modified version of this diet. And by modified, I mean I can still drink and have carbs when I really want them. Just knowing that I can do something, that it’s not forbidden, makes all the difference in the world. I just need to remind myself that I don’t actually need them every meal like I “needed” them before.