Phillip went out to drinks and dinner and dessert with his coworkers tonight while I stayed home and did homework word problems and practiced piano and washed shampoo out of eyes and read bedtime stories and cleaned up the kitchen. To make up for having gone on a date with work people instead of his wife, he brought home an absolutely majestic piece of chocolate cake. A huge piece of cake, all rich and fudgy with shiny satiny frosting, OH. Except I am on Day Two of Not Eating Everything In Sight and now I'm just sitting here STARING at a piece of cake. Willing it to disappear before I lunge for a fork.
In late spring, having finally weaned myself off the last SSRI, I started losing weight. I felt SO. VINDICATED. I lost nearly 15 pounds without doing much at all. I wanted to burst into my old brain doctor's office and shriek, "I GUESS SOME PEOPLE *DO* GAIN WEIGHT ON THIS ONE, JERKFACE!" But I thought that might be a little undignified and also I wouldn't want him to think that I'd spent the better part of a year feeling indignant over something so shallow as my inability to lose WEIGHT so... yeah. I kept my thoughts to myself. But in late spring I was all, BOOYAH! And thinking the rest would take some work, but it would happen. Yay Me.
Okay, so THEN Anxiety Episode Number I Guess I'm Not Really Counting Anymore happened in early July and in late August there was the week when it was so bad and things with Phillip were SO bad that I didn't eat for a week. Do you know how bad things have to be for Maggie Cheung to NOT EAT?! Like, really horribly terribly bad. But! I lost more weight! It was INCREDIBLY shallow of me to be aware of this fact, was it not, but I felt like the universe owed me a silver lining and I was happy to take this one.
Oh, but THEN that week ended and Phillip and I went back to Coping Poorly instead of Not Coping At All and I started to eat again. But I wasn't really doing better anxiety-wise and I realized it wasn't that I was eating my feelings so much as I was aware that eating was something I ENJOYED. Does that make sense? So I felt like I deserved to eat. Everything else was terrible, but this here jar of Nutella? That would make my evening SO much better! I would LIKE that!
I suppose it is not THAT surprising that I am now even heavier than I was before. Not that I've been brave enough to step on a scale and make myself certain of this fact, but I can tell. Sigh.
There were a few weeks of promising myself that I would stop eating all the cake, but then we'd have a big cookie order and oh look, there's a few left over! It was like I just didn't care enough to care. Or something. And I'd think about what it took for me to be a size 8 and I'd say to myself, "Self? You don't have time for that. You don't WANT to spend your time on that. THAT WAS NOT FUN. Also! Cake is delicious!" And also being super busy with the bakery and still not having a good grip on the anxiety stuff and being verrrrry generous with myself. Space. Grace. Time.
And now I'm at a point where attempting to treat my body a little better WOULD be grace. To eat foods that aren't half sugar. To try to find a schedule, or a work time/being with kids time balance. To make myself something for lunch rather than reaching for whatever is easily grabbed and eaten as I do something else. Cutting out carbs has been the one consistent way for me to cut the sugar cravings and fit in my pants, so that's what I'm doing again. Trying. (Failing. Then trying again. Then failing again. But going back to trying.) I've given up on getting my Hot By Thirty body back. That was more like a fun chunk of time where I could wear whatever I wanted! Now I just... want to feel a little bit better about myself. Or something.
GOD I HATE IT WHEN I WRITE ABOUT THIS STUFF!!!! I go through these spurts where I'm like, "I'm never going to write about my weight or size or WHATEVER on the internet AGAIN! EVER!" For various reasons: no one cares, I don't want to hate on myself, I don't want to set a poor example for my kids, etc. Then I do this. Because it helps! It does! It helps to write it out and sometimes someone comiserates or says something nice and THAT HELPS. It also makes me feel like I'm accountable to something. "I told the INTERNET. I can't go give up on everything NOW."
I can say, though, that I DON'T hate myself. I am not down on myself. I would LOVE to fit into my old dresses, but I'm not MAD at me because I don't. Last year I was mad. So something is different (not sure what). I think some of it has to do with starting to believe that OTHER people don't need me to be skinny in order to love me, or even just hang out with me. That sounds terrible, doesn't it? That I might have believed something like that? I think that was the shady part of Hot By Thirty - absorbing the accolades from people who are important to me, the trap of thinking I was an improved human being for having lost over 30 pounds... and then feeling like I MAJOR FAILED everyone when I gained it back. Diminished worth. Ugh, let's not go too far down that road.
You know, I was REALLY planning to sit down and write about Selfie. (I STILL AM.) But then something happened. Oh right. The cake. It's bad news when a part-owner of a baking company has to write an angsty four thousand word blog post about the deep and personal implications of a single slice of cake.