Now that I’ve calmed down sufficiently and stopped rolling around on the floor feeling oh so sorry for myself, I can tell you what happened yesterday.
The day started perfectly, with a very happy scale moment. A new low, and that little bit closer to my first mini goal. And then I promptly went and ruined it all by gorging myself stupid at a farewell function at work that afternoon.
Was it a feast of delectable treats, culinary works of art? No. I ate a steak half moon, two little samoosas, a chilli bite, some cheese, two marshmallows, and a stack of chips. I was appalled at myself. Horrified at how I had just stuffed my face. And even in the moment I knew what I was doing and just continued.
What the hell is that about?
All I wanted to do was throw up. And suddenly I understood the mentality behind bulimia – well, a tiny bit of what I imagine it must be like. Because I know there’s so much more to the illness than just bingeing and purging.
I was disgusted with what I had done. All the hard work I’ve been putting in and then I go and stuff my face like that. I was horrified by what people must have thought – because I was certain they’d all been watching every bite, every reach towards a platter.
So instead of catching the connecting bus down to the Civic Centre I walked, briskly. I was feeling uncomfortable, the result of eating all this food that my body was no longer used to. And I figured the walk would not only help to ease my discomfort, but also make me feel that although I’d stumbled a bit on my journey I was taking steps (heh) to get back on track.
Moments like that aren’t the end of the world, IF you dust off the icing sugar and set your eye on your goal again. In the past I probably would have just thrown up my hands and headed for a fast food joint, because “I messed up, so what’s the point in trying anymore?”
The point is, I’m down 10kgs since July. I refuse to undo all my hard work just because of a few office snacks.