I just completed my 16th week showing a 1.6 lbs. loss. Am I finally getting the hang of this? Yes and no.
Yes in that I'm making really steady progress, averaging about a 1.2 lbs. loss per week, and I firmly understand that this is the healthy way to do it - slow and steady.
No in that I still, on a weekly basis, sabotage myself with overeating, or splurging on junky, unhealthy foods. I'm profoundly lucky in that my actions have not yet stopped me from losing steadily. Sure, I've had weeks when my weight went up a bit, or failed to go down more than 1 lbs., but I always recover the next.
But this is all working for me right now. Believe me, I do NOT look forward to the day when I realize I can no longer have a big bowl of full-fat ice cream the night before a weigh-in and still show a loss. But that will be part of the metamorphosis, and I understand that that day will come.
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Last night, after attending a very-successful WW weigh-in and meeting, I found myself compelled to a certain mexican food joint to order my dinner. Let me explain something about this particular "mexican food joint": Before I spontaneously embarked on Weight Watchers seventeen weeks ago, I dined on take-out from this place EVERY week night. Oh, a day may have passed when I craved a burger instead, but for the most part, this place was where I bought my dinner.
It was so bad, that upon walking into the place (I don't even know how to refer to it - a restaurant? a food joint? heaven?), the friendly folks behind the counter would hold up the peace sign, confirming with me whether I wanted my regular TWO bean and cheese burritos with sour cream. And I always nodded in approval. Then, while I waited for the huge, one-is-more-than-enough burritos to be made, I would walk down the mini-mall sidewalk to the liquor store owned by some friendly Sikhs and purchase a 20 oz. Cherry Coke and a Snickers bar for dessert. Always.
And I would go home, turn on the t.v., and stuff all that food and drink down my gullet. It made me all warm and fuzzy inside. And if I tried to stray, tried to go to Subway instead, I would get nervous and fidgety and feel grossly unsatisfied with myself. This was, clearly, an addiction.
With that said, as I mentioned earlier, I found myself drawn back to the place last night. This wasn't a sudden, unforeseen visit. I had returned to the joint a few weeks ago, again, after a meeting. I chalk it up to two things: a stray from my determination to stay away; and location, location, location.
This place is, literally, right around the corner from my WW meeting place. Every time I drive to my meetings on Tuesday nights, I have to drive the same route I used to take nightly to El Casita Tacos al Carbon. And that mental image, and the feeling of being filled with those delicious burritos floods back, tormenting me.
So I nodded again last night when the person behind the counter flashed me the peace sign and drove home with my two burritos. I got home, opened my mail (I received a credit limit increase on one of my credit cards, yay!), turned on the tv, and did my damndest to scarf down those two burritos... And I couldn't do it.
From the very first bite I felt the thickness of it, the obvious heaviness of the food - it felt bad putting it into my mouth. But the taste was good, so I persisted. I finished the first burrito with great pains, but I unwrapped that second burrito all the same. I drank some water to try to "clear the channel" and tried to ingest the 2nd half of my meal.
With one bite, I felt nauseated. I felt so over-stuffed. Within my mouth, the saliva felt thick, and I felt began to feel dehydrated. I had a feeling of tunnel-vision, as if I had been drugged. This was not a good feeling. I didn't feel an urgent need to throw up, there was no room down there for my stomach to so much as grumble with disdain, but I could sense that I was going to be very, very sick. My mouth was very watery, and I made my way to the bathroom to get sick.
It took nearly a half-hour, and I did throw up, a little. Not as much as I so desperately wanted to, but as much as my body would allow. I rose afterwards and felt hot - not "hot" as in "sexy", but "hot" as in "fuck, my face feels really hot!" - I looked in the mirror and my eyes were totally bloodshot, red, and teary and my face was completely reddened. I was a very sick girl.
I slowly made my way back to bed, slowly sipping some cold water, and tried to sleep with a belly full of fuck-all. It was one of those horrendous evenings. I woke up this morning feeling very heavy, still with that full feeling in my stomach, as if my stomach was still trying to process some of that burrito.
I cannot promise that I won't have a similar experience again - I understand now that I have an addiction that I need to work through - but I DO know that writing this down here, and being as descriptive as possible, will help me remember what a fucked-up experience this was, and how I really truly never want it to happen again.
Posted by weezgrrl at May 26, 2004 09:50 AM