I had a little meltdown on the "Don’t Let’s Call It a Diet" front that has me looking at how much like a diet it is going to feel from now until the goal is reached. The magic of the Weight Watchers plan is the way the points adjust as your weight decreases. The activity points become worth less because people who weigh less burn fewer calories than people who do the same activity while carrying more pounds. It makes sense. And heavier people need more calories just to meet basic needs. That also makes sense.
Every time a person drops into a lower "decade" of weight, one of the daily food points goes away. The last time this happened, I felt a bit rebellious, but this week, when confronted with the wee number of 20 points per day (around 1000 calories, although this calculation depends on fiber and fat grams, too), I somehow fell off the food-tracking planet and enjoyed several Williamsburg Orange cupcakes made by The Princess and her cousin for a little family gathering the other night. By which I mean I ate one then, but they were still here on Sunday. And Monday. And today. And somehow writing them down felt impossible, and the bad feelings of binge-i-ness overwhelmed me.
"What’s the point?" I asked myself, in classic self-defeating style.
Well, what is the point? The point is learning to live in a more healthy, less unconscious fashion, but there I was behaving incredibly unconsciously and launching myself straight into a classic downward spiral.
I guess the good news is it felt uncomfortable, and that led me to confess my sins to Pure Luck while we were out for a walk. He tried to reason with me. God bless him. He tried to reason with me, but I had to finish spewing all my disappointment and shame before I could hear a word he was saying.
I have admittedly been off-kilter due to the diminished exercise opportunities of the past few weeks, really the past month (too cold, too icy, my ear hurts, etc.), some of the reasons legitimate, but some embroidered because it’s so easy to fall out of the habit.
That worries me. I would hope that six, almost seven months, of living differently would be at least the foundation of a set of new habits, but apparently it’s very easy for me to lose them, very.
I came home from our walk and did a really hard thing: I wrote down all the stuff I ate on Sunday and Monday, as best I could reconstruct it. Let’s just say, for those of you who comprehend the WW system, I have only 2 weekly points remaining to last through Friday. But I wrote it all down. I wrote it all down as best I was able.
Is that good enough? For those of us whose version of perfectionism is "perfect" or "self-destruct," it’s hard to say it is. But it’s all I have for right now.