As disciplined as I’ve been for the past two months, I have cheated on two occasions. Once, at a Starbucks drive through, I got a cheese Danish. I was only able to eat half. Not too long ago, I ate a Rice Krispy treat. I finished the whole thing.
I’m not too worried about the cheating. Two incidents in sixty days shows a lot of discipline for me, and I recognized the mistakes immediately. I don’t feel too remorseful. I didn’t atone for these things during Yom Kippur.
Going forward, I recognize that it’s very important to minimize cheating, but not to attempt to eliminate it altogether. Thinking I’ll never eat a forbidden food again is setting myself up for failure. There’s no way I can live up to that expectations. Instead, I have to remember that I’ll slip up, and that it’s OK as long the incidents are isolated and I learn from my mistakes.
And, even though I’ve slipped up twice, I’ve been able to resist temptation every other time. For example, the Complementary Spouse has been hiding a package of Pepperidge Farms chocolate chip cookies from me. I know where they are (Footnote 1), and I haven’t had one. I don’t eat any of the baked goods that are left in the break room at work. I haven’t succumbed to the allure of pizza.
1. I know all your secrets.
I’m finding it difficult to get back into healthy eating habits after my disappointing visit to the nutritionist last week. As I wrote in my last post, I have developed a bit of a “fuck it” attitude. If I’m not going to lose weight, I tell myself, I should just give up.
Needless to say, I recognize that this is the least healthy attitude I can take. It also doesn’t portend well for weight-loss surgery. What will I do after the operation when I get depressed? Eating the wrong things will no longer be an option, and can make me physically ill. If eating is my only outlet after a disappointment, perhaps I need some additional psychological counseling. Continue reading
I saw the nutritionist yesterday, and I was shocked to step on her scale and find out that I’ve only lost one pound. On my scale at home, I have lost about six pounds. I’m puzzled to provide an explanation, except that the first time I went to the nutritionist is was in the morning, and this time was in the afternoon. Still, that doesn’t account for the differences between scales.
I’m inclined to believe my scale at home is right. It’s very advanced and supposed to be highly accurate, and it connects through Wi-Fi to my phone so I can track all my measurements in the Apple Health app. Nonetheless, the only scale that counts for my nutritionist is hers. Continue reading
Commencement at the Royal Tampa Academy of Dramatic Tricks is less than two weeks away. I just picked up my regalia this afternoon. It doesn’t fit. I don’t know what to do.
Update: I couldn’t sleep last night thinking about this issue. I am taking the regalia back to school today to try to get an exchange, but I’m very worried that there simply won’t be any clothes in my size. Here’s how I imagine the conversation will go:
Me: This gown doesn’t fit. I’d like to exchange it for a larger size.
Salesclerk: There are no larger sizes.
Me: You’re saying that you don’t have a single gown that fits?
Salesclerk: That’s what I’m saying.
Me: Surely, I’m not the largest person to go to commencement.
Salesclerk: As far as I know, you are.
Me: What do you suggest I do?
Salesclerk: Stay home. I don’t know how much weight the stage can handle.
Update 2: I just swapped out my robe for a bigger one. There was no fuss and no drama. Sometimes I get worked up over nothing.
One of the places I can see my weight gain most prominently is in my hands. My fingers are chubby and stubby, and they remind me of sausages. There’s a noticeable layer of fat on my palms. My wedding ring feels tight.
It seems weird to wish for thinner hands and fingers, but these are the body parts I see most frequently during the day. I see them when I’m writing, typing, eating, driving, tapping on my iPhone and iPad, using the remote control — pretty much all the time.