It's day 32 of my whole 30 experience. Yesterday morning I woke up and for the first time in thirty days I was free to weigh myself and eat whatever I wanted. It was absolutely terrifying. What if I got on the scale and nothing had changed? What if I ate one thing off the plan and it is my gateway drug and I end up going on a sugar binge eating everything in sight? For those of you with a normal relationship with food I envy you. The only words I can use for what I felt yesterday morning was abject terror.
So when I got to work yesterday morning I walked in and went to our fancy hospital scale (I call it the digital terror) I prepared myself as I took off my watch, my lucky red shoes, and emptied my pockets if I hadn't been at work I would have taken all my clothes. As I stood in front of the scale waiting for the familiar three beeps as it clears the previous person's data it flashed zero and waited. I stood there in my bare feet and I took a deep breath a familiar voice repeated the words that had gotten me through the last thirty days "I am enough" I am not a number I am person and I will love myself no matter what is flashed on that numerical display.
With a step of courage and trepidation I stepped upon the scale and as the machine flashed three red dashes and then the number flashed upon the screen. Ah. I said. Oh. Said my body. How much did I lose said my brain. I'm not so great with the math skills. So getting out my phone I pulled up the handy calculator plugged in the numbers and that unholy number thirteen popped up. I was grateful it wasn't just two pounds.
So what have I learned in this thirty day experience? I've learned that I've romanticized food. I've made it the villain, the lover, the need, and the desire. Yet when I break it all down food is just to fuel the body to get us to the next day. While I wanted ice cream, cookies ( I had a dream one night everyone I worked with was a girl scout cookies) Coke, peanut M&M', mocha chillers (on day 11 I was willing to shank someone to get one) I realized that while the logical part of my brain was learning that good food is good bad food is a slut and will haunt your dreams like a really bad one night stand. On the white knuckled night a night of desire for a pint of Talenti Gelato I sat there in my in my house holding on to the table talking to myself out of driving all the way to Harmons and getting my drug that's when I knew it was working. When facing this dark side of myself I realized that if I could make it to the next day it would be okay. I would be okay.
This experience hasn't been all bad. I've learned that I love to cook. I love the whole preparation, the transmogrification of turning one substance into another. In cooking I've learned you have to be brave. You have to trust yourself that what you create is going to taste wonderful. One night when I made my shrimp carbonara I caught myself groaning in pleasure. When have you done that with a box of rice a roni I ask you?
It's my weekend. I have twenty four hours before I start another round. While I've left the 260's and down in the 240's I realize I've begun a journey to change myself. I could stop and go okay and end up back where I was a month ago or I can keep on going and see what I my potential could be. I don't want to be sad anymore. I don't want to be addicted to food that makes me feel blah. I've wasted enough time, energy, and money in things that make me feel blah and shamed. I'm tired of feeling ashamed of who I am. These next thirty days are going to be fun. Anybody want to join me?
For all of you wanting to know my meal plans and such I'll try to post them and where I've found my recipes.
Follow me on instagram too for pictures of what I'm making my id is BFARRU8422.