Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Manic Monday

Saturday night we went out for dinner. During my usual run around to try and find something to wear, I tried on my favourite pair of size 18W jeans. I was completely desperate to even try them on because last time they hadn't come close to zipping up. Guess what? They fit! Completely shocked, I tried on several tops that I haven't worn since early January. They also fit. One I even tried on without a bra and oh MAN did I look all sexerrific! My breasts nestled in that empire-waisted singlet top like they were born for it! Only problem was, I was afraid I'd fall out of it while attempting to eat my Japanese food, or something from the chopsticks'd take a dive into that beautiful valley. So, the top went back in the wardrobe until I can find a nice demibra to wear underneath it.

(All of this was pretty amazing considering I'm 18 lbs fatter, yes I do mean fatter not heavier, than I was at Christmas. And approx 10lbs past the point where the clothes last fit. I'm guessing the increased exercise over recent months has helped tone something, even though I can't see it in the mirror.)

Too hot to wear the jeans, I ended up wearing a pair of black scrubs pants (that look surprisingly like slacks but are much more comfy with their nice drawstring waistband) and a very fetching purple sleeveless top. Also the same high-heeled sandals that I'd worn to see Wicked. Walking through the parking garage underneath our building I noticed I was strutting.

I said to Alaskaboy, “Look how I'm walking!”
He said, “I AM looking!”
In my rush to get my point across I completely ignored the inherent compliment he'd given me. “No, no! I meant look how I'm walking in these compared to when we went to Wicked!” I also gave him a mental eye roll for good measure.

Back in April, despite wearing a loose and floaty-style gypsy/peasant skirt, my strides were about as long as you could take wearing a long pencil skirt. My ankles felt strong enough to actually wear the high heels, but still really weak and wobbly compared to what they used to be, so I played it cautious with mincing steps. Saturday night I was walking along with a swinging stride and loving how confident and sexy I felt.

On Sunday, bearing in mind my new progress with the jeans, I went and checked my progress photos. Now, this wasn't out of any masochistic need to compare how I was then with now. This was simply to see how long it has been since I'd actually posted a progress picture. And because I graduated from therapy last week, I should have been completely fine with looking at those pictures. I thought I was, until Monday morning rolled around.

Sunday night I'd gone to bed, but tossed and turned for 45 minutes without even a hint of falling asleep. Practicing my new “adult” outlook, I got up and folded the washing we'd done the day before. Doing something productive, instead of wasting more time feeling frustrated. So, because of that my sleep was a little shorter than I like, but once I was awake, there was no rolling back over and going back to sleep. Believe me, I tried. LOL (That's the other great thing, I'm not only happier I'm also back to sleeping normally, no more 12 hrs a day spent sleeping. Plus, there's less grumpiness if I am sleep deprived. Yipeee!)

All morning I had a sense of body dissatisfaction. My thoughts were turning to binging. Despite having had a delicious In'n'Out burger on Saturday, I was having fantasies about eating Burger King...just to see if it tasted any better this time around. Punishment eating or what?! I had my breakfast of porridge, since I really did want it and had taken the time last night to put the saucepan on the stove and soak the porridge for quick cooking in the morning. For second breakfast my brain was urging me to eat all of the leftover roast chicken and bury myself face first in the leftover Crumb Topped Rhubarb and Strawberry Pie. Instead, I ate the wing on Alaskaboy's half of the chicken. (he doesn't like them) and I ate half my own side's chicken breast. Then I picked bits off the carcass..especially that really yummy tender bit on the bottom. It kinda looks like a giblet, but it's alll meat. And then, when I'd eaten enough chicken, I cut myself a piece of pie about half the size my brain told me I wanted.

I ate like this all day. Whatever I wanted to binge on, I waited until I was hungry and ate only enough to be satisfied. Well, wouldja lookit that! Intuitive eating and emotional eating combined. Because I was eating only small meals, I ate more often over the course of the day, every 1.5 – 2 hrs I'd say. Third meal was the rest of my chicken breast plus heaps of sauerkraut. Fourth meal was a vegetable sushi roll and a cup of miso soup while I was out and about running errands. (post office was a nightmare! Which only increased my negativity.)

All day I'd been so angry that I'd had several episodes of mock-biting the air. (complete with Unh-Unh-Unh and Grrrr noises) When I got home I was still in an angry and unsettled mood. So I indulged in a bit more of that then jumped on the computer. (Ouch poor computer. HaHa!) I knew I was sad and unsettled over seeing the pictures. Shocked at reacting like I did because I never expected to react at all. I knew I had to talk to somebody about it because I'd been going around and around in circles in my own head all day with no lessening of the emotions. Luckily Marshy was online and in one part of the conversation she hit it on the head why I was angry. I was furious at myself for reacting. I HADN'T gone there to torture myself or even felt the need to torture myself, yet here I was still reacting! Still stuck in that old mental pattern. ARRGH!

During the conversation I started to get hungry again. My emotions were crying out for comfort food and my body was hungry because I'd had not much to eat really, even though I felt like I'd been eating all bloody day. I tried to wait until we'd finished talking, but the conversation meandered and flowed, as conversations tend to do, so I had to nick on out to the kitchen in fits and starts to make dinner. (Was an important conversation didn't wanna say hold on making dinner I be back later.) I wanted cheese. Cheese. Cheese. Oh and Carbs. I whacked the spaghetti on to boil. Usually my (low fat) carbonara or alfredo-type sauces are made with cream cheese and evaporated milk, plus any sautéed veggies and sun dried tomatoes or chicken I wanna put in it. When lazy I use warmed flavoured cream cheese.

When the pasta was almost done I microwaved about 1/4c of Philadelphia Chive & Onion Cream Cheese. Now, when I'd made this last time, it was a little dry, so I contemplated adding a little fresh milk to it or more of the cream cheese...but I'd have needed a whole tub to cover it as lusciously sloppy as I wanted the sauce to be at that moment. Too much fresh milk and it'd be the wrong consistency and flavour. I contemplated adding cottage cheese to it, but didn't fancy the lumps. I wanted sauce, not bits! What to do, what to do?


I whizzed about 2/3-3/4c of cottage cheese in our mini food processor and mixed it through the warmed cream cheese. Lookit that! Half a bowl of sauce! I slopped in the pasta and mixed it through really good. Added some freshly ground black pepper, and feeling daring I sprinkled a little bit of dried dill on there. I also thought about adding some grated Parmesan, but it really was already luscious tasting enough with the chives and dill. (Beside it'd also dirty another utensil and, more importantly, make me wait longer to EAT!)

OMG! Satisfying on all fronts: time and ease of preparation; taste buds; emotions; stomach; gentle nutrition; healthy conscience. And just like that my anger was gone. Replaced by pride that I'd managed to satisfy my day long binge without compromising my intuitive eating.

1 Nibbles:

cmae said...

I am going to have to look into this intuitive eating thing...