Scrambling

Back in April, when I started losing weight, things seemed to happen fairly quickly for me. I even started this blog, and began talking about how serene and wonderful I was, and about how weight was just flying off practically while I slept, and I shone with the holy light of self-righteousness. And then the summer came, and I was keeping weight off, and I started running and feeling proud of myself for sticking to an exercise regime, and all continued to be well. And then the fall came, and with that came … nothing. Not a thing. A three pound loss in two months, and a stall at around 5-6 miles. And for some reason that has continued right up until now.

All through the summer I felt pretty fabulous about my body. I could tell a difference in all my clothes, and every time I put something on it was a revelation of how my body had changed through a 40 pound loss. But since October I’ve maintained at about the same weight, but an odd thing has happened. Instead of feeling good about it, I now feel like exactly the same lumpy, frumpy, grumpy person I was at 240 pounds. I feel stuck with all of my horribly boring clothes, and I feel monsterously huge and out of control. The odd thing is, I’m really not. I’m not gaining weight, I’m just maintaining. But I don’t WANT to maintain, I want to lose.

My friend C. theorized that this often happens when you lose a decent amount of weight in a short time. She says there is always an ‘evening out’ period of a month or two when your body reestablishes a normal pattern, but for some reason the thought of that just depresses the hell out of me.

Oddly enough, this feeling of Pillsbury doughgirlness has been good for me. It’s helped me avoid the tables of sweets around the office, and the boxes of gourmet carmel corn. I made a vow to myself early in the month that I could eat dessert as long as 1.) it was homemade, or 2.) it was something SPECIAL (ie: not the store bought cheesecake that some lame-o brought to the holiday party because they couldn’t be arsed to make something). And that’s worked well for me, even if it has made me disappointed in the culinary laziness of my co-workers. I had a slab of my sister’s white chocolate macadamia cake, because she makes it only once a year, and I had a few bourbon balls made by my boss, but other than that I haven’t touched sugar this month.

I’ve been thinking a lot about seasonal food, and about how I feel better if there are things I genuinely do eat only a few times a year. With the year-long availability of fruits and sweets and processes junk there is really nothing I can’t have any time I want it. And you know what? That’s kind of sad. Take Thanksgiving for example. I can get turkey and dressing and pumpkin pie any time of year and a number of good local eateries, and I do, so when the actual day comes it’s more about the volume of what I eat rather than the taste of a certain rare foods. Same goes for Christmas. I eat sweets and fudge and garbage like that year-round, so that there is nothing truly special about the things I can get in the holiday season. Which is why one of my bizarre NY resolutions is to pick a few things that I only have in season. Pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving. Fruit and vegetables in season (to an extent *g*), etc. I don’t know why I feel so passionate about this, but I do. Aren't I lame? :)

In any case, sorry to ramble on forever about nothing interesting. I’m trying to be easy on myself today, since the truth is I haven’t gained weight or been doing badly, I’ve just been on a bit of a break. But I’m ready for that lovely sense of accomplishment again. I feel quite fortunate that this year I actually stuck to my 2005 resolutions, and I can say that I ended this year 40 pounds thinner and in MUCH better cardiovascular shape than I ended last year. And that’s something to be proud of. Right?