“This is not my emotion; this is because of what my body is going through. These are not really my thoughts; this is hormonal.”
If I had a dollar for how many friggin times I’ve told myself this over the last few months, I’d be able to pay my rent and that one ticket I got coming back from LA.
$225 for ten over the speed limit!?!?! I hate you.
No, I can’t really complain. I was actually going 105, clocked at 90, ticketed at 80. We won’t even talk about the fact that I couldn’t find my proof in insurance, the fact that I had a flask (empty and not mine) in the glove compartment, and a partial bottle of vodka I had in the (visible) back storage area of my car (out of my reach, I was NOT drinking while driving) that the officer simply ignored because I looked cute and scared.
I could have been fucked… and not in the fun way.
First, birth control drove me crazy. My usually mild tempered self almost started throwing things and walked home in a fit of emotion to avoid doing something angry and stupid in the middle of the night. I was a mess.
So I stopped that stuff.
After that, I cut out sugar. Sugar withdrawals are almost as brutal. Three days of headaches and fatalism later, I’m fine.
Damn, I sound crazy.
I feel amazing, though. I had forgotten how good sugar free feels.
Oh, and how good weight loss feels. I’m not telling how much I’m losing and have lost until Monday but it makes me smile a whole lot.
Remembering that smile is probably the only thing that’s kept me from indulging. This week has been so full of events at which I would usually have a cocktail or some sort of food I shouldn’t eat, it’s been difficult. Tuesday night I needed to check on a few friends who are going through difficult times. Of course, the place to find them is our neighborhood bar. I sat sipping soda water and lime while getting updates on how they were doing and on the latest gossip. And then I made a new friend.
Last night I went to the Seattle Opera’s Bravo Club kickoff party where they had the most delectable looking appetizers and deserts. Really, though, there was nothing there I could actually eat. Boo, hiss. Afterward, a group of us went to a late happy hour and again I sat sipping soda water and lime. I found an appetizer that I could actually eat and decided to enjoy the conversation instead of focusing on the food and drink.
Tonight I have another party to attend and I’m starting to feel confident that I can continue to get away with soda water and lime. The last party I have on Sunday is the only one I worry about. It’s a birthday party and it’s pretty glaringly obvious when someone passes on the birthday cake, drinks, and pretty much all other offered sweets. I don’t want to be that downer.
Remember the smile. Remember the weight loss. Remember the sugar withdrawals. Remember that food and drink aren’t required for merriment.
Hitting the reset button is hard, but it’s also worth it.
Parties and other events will happen again and again. There’s always another chance to try that pretty little pastry if I so desire. That’s something I’ve been learning over the last year and a half and something I had to remind myself of many times this week.
Just because I passed on whatever that OMG-it-smells-so-good thing was last night doesn’t mean I won’t ever be able to try it, nor does it mean that I won’t find something better to try in the future.
So, I take this one step at a time, one evening at a time. Then, I wake up the next morning and weigh myself because the daily loss shown leaves a much better taste in my mouth than even a tequila sunrise.