I have to admit that this last week was extremely tough for me. We had a ward activity on Friday night, followed by an evening party at my cousin's house. There was food everywhere and it was tough to stay away. In fact, I didn't.
Yesterday my sis-in-law made cookies. I wish I couldn't tell you just how yummy they were, but I know all too well that they were delicious. Dang it.
I'm thinking that I need to just imagine and not even take the first bite. It's way too difficult to stop once I have confirmed how wonderful something feels on my tongue. No matter how much I know that my body won't like it, I just can't make myself stop once I've started. (This is a t-shirt design from our friends at woot.com. Love it!)
A handful of years ago, I attended AA meetings with a friend of mine who was struggling with alcohol addiction. It was kind of awkward, to be honest, but I did learn some about myself. See, I'm addicted to food. I'm addicted to salty, greasy, fattening food. I'm addicted to flavor and richness, texture and depth. It affects my moods and whole body chemistry, and I'm not even talking about the physical affects of the fat and such.
Have you ever known an alcoholic or a druggie who just couldn't quit? They would say over and over, "I'll just take one sip" or "only one more fix"... Well, food that's bad for me is my fix. I cannot allow myself to fall off the wagon because I won't want to get back up.
See, I'm comfortable being fat. In a sense. I'm used to this. It's my comfort zone because it's all I know. I can't actually imagine myself thin. It boggles my mind that I could actually live life with one whole person less to carry around. Logically, I know. I lift the rolls of fat and try to remember what I felt like without them. I wasn't born this way, but I can barely imagine not being round.
Despite the setbacks with the food, my metabolism worked and I lost another 4 pounds. If anyone is counting, I'm about 45 pounds down on the scale and 48 pounds of fat down. Incredibly, the work is still paying off, and even though I'm feeling burned out, I may just be able to keep going.
This addiction of mine, this monkey on my back, is getting old. Just a few more months till the imagined will become the reality and the addiction will be just old memory. Not that I'll ever stop loving food, but that maybe I will be able to take that bite of dessert and not feel guilty for the rest of the week.