Over

In case you are wondering, I'm still obsessive. Going a year without weighing myself was only helpful in one respect, and that's that I can go on vacation and not have access to a scale and not panic about it. I made it a whole year, I can make it a week.

Other than that, I gained weight, so I obviously can't be trusted. I'm back on the restricting wagon.

I'm limiting everything except vegetables. Trying to stay under 1000 kcals every day, and running at least 5 km everyday (though ideally more than 10, but my schedule is busy and time is limited).

A bad idea

So at the start of the year I had made an experimental goal for myself to not weigh myself for 1 whole calendar year. So far I'm still doing it.

What I hoped would happen:
I would stop obsessing about my weight.
I would focus on how I felt versus what number I saw.
My head would start to think more rationally.
I would see what I really looked like in the mirror.
I could get my head free from this mess and focus on things that matter.

What has actually happened:
I think I'm fat no matter what.
I can't at all tell what I look like. I thought I might be able to based on how my clothes fit, but each season I get out last year's clothes and some fit and some don't. Some fit the same, some are tighter, a couple seem looser. What the fuck??
Some days I look in the mirror and see a blob of fat and rolls.
Some days I look in the mirror and see a lean, fit adult woman.
Some photos of me look good. Others look terrible. What do I actually look like?

My head is a mess. I have wanted to post on here but I don't even know what to say.

I went to the Czech Republic in July. It was a great trip. Every one there was, in fact, very thin tho I can only attribute that to walking everywhere because their food is SO HEAVY and calorie dense. A few people made remarks on how fit I looked. At one point we hiked 25 km on no sleep and I had more energy than almost every one I was hiking with. So at least I didn't embarrass myself on that front. I might look like a giant whale, but at least I had good physical fitness.

As always... The holidays are coming. I need to be thin for the holidays. I can't deal if I'm not.
And normally I am sad to see them over (I gain enough satisfaction in decor that it's easier to not eat). But this year, the New Year will mark the start of weighing myself again. I need that in my life.

Still fat

I haven't been on all year because I don't have numbers.

I recalled the time in my life that I got the thinnest, I literally never weighed myself. I just kept restricting and getting smaller.

So I decided to try to go the entire year of 2018 not stepping on a scale.

It hasn't helped. At first it even made things worse. I gained weight in the first part of the year (like, probably 15 pounds if I had to guess) because I knew I wasn't going to "see" the numbers in the morning. The problem was, I soon started to "see" the numbers of my pants rising. Technically I can still squeeze into my clothes but they're super tight. And in fact, a number of pairs of shorts that I wore last year are now too tight to wear this year.

AND....

We have a beach vacation scheduled for the first week of July.

Fuck.

I told husband I'm not eating carbs between now and then. It's honestly the fastest way I can think to lose the weight. That combined with 18/6 intermittent fasting. And running every day. If I can lose at least ten pounds in the next three weeks I should be okay.

Then hopefully keep losing weight, because after the beach vacation, I will be taking a trip to do some work in the Czech Republic for two weeks at the end of July, and like I said when I left for Portugal last year, I refuse to be the "Fat American" when I travel abroad.

158

Getting back down to 160 was pretty easy. It was mostly bloat/water. Now I am once again, working my way down the 150's. With my impatience, my net intakes in the past few days have been between 300-700. I've been eating a little over 1,000 kcals per day, but exercising. Trying desperately to keep my metabolism up. Husband was out of town yesterday and today so I walk/ran 10 miles with the dogs, went to bed early to avoid late night binges, which then helped me to get up early today and get a few miles in with doggies before helping out at a friend's store all day. Husband shouldn't be home until later this evening so I should be able to get a few more miles in with the dogs before he gets home.

Coffee & Water & Coffee & Water & Coffee & Water & Coffee & Water

A week of self-destruction

I hadn't binged in a really long time. Like, not even one binge meal. At least a sober one anyway. I guess there were a few times I stuffed my face while drunk at 2 am. I'd have to look back through posts but I think it was prior to 2017 since a premeditated, sober binge. And then last week I spent an entire week stuffing my face. In the wake of the few pound I had gained I went nuts. I lost my mind. I bought ice cream, cereal, peanut butter, chocolate (I don't even like chocolate), brownie mix.... On two occasions I mixed up the boxed brownie batter and ate almost the entire thing in one sitting without even baking it. Just the fucking batter. I, of course, had to wait until Husband wasn't home which was a little tricky but I don't work quite as many hours as he does so it wasn't that hard.

I didn't exercise. Not once. No walking the dogs. No solo runs. Just face stuffing for seven straight days.

I was tired, and felt awful. My skin looked horrific. I barely slept.

And I punished myself in the meantime. I would step on the scale, look at the giant number, go eat bread dipped in oil. Step on the scale, look at the now larger number eat a fast food hamburger. All week I would do this.

And oh my the alcohol. I think I averaged 6 drinks per night each week (how else would I get to sleep and live with the disgust?!)

And then I tipped. I got the number on the scale all the way up to 170 fucking pounds. I felt high just looking at it. It didn't feel real.

Over the course of one week I managed to gain 13 pounds! I could barely fit into the work clothes that were hanging off of me back in June.

But maybe I needed to swing the pendulum to regain some momentum. I had been so stuck. And I don't know if I've ever felt as disgusted with myself as I did Monday morning. Realizing just how awful I felt eating garbage and not exercising has definitely renewed my desire to restrict INCLUDING ALCOHOL. Last night was the first night in over a month that I only had one drink. The binge week was enough to scare me out of even alcohol calories.

After just one day of being more reasonable, I was back down to 165 this morning (can't believe I'm typing those words....) and I got a good 7 mile run in today. Funny thing about it was even though it's disgustingly humid out (usually kills my pace) my average pace was more than a minute faster than it had been in months and I didn't really feel like I was pushing myself. Crazy was some fuel and hydration will do.

So today I've had some frozen fruit, an egg, cauliflower, kale, and some water. But more importantly, I feel motivated. I can keep this up.

Alcohol

I've gained about 4 pounds.

I've been drinking a lot. Food has stayed about the same. Alcohol has increased.

And the most concerning thing has been that I'm more worried about how to eat less than drink less.

I've seen so many videos online about girls who "had" eating disorders. They talk about weighing themselves "EVERY DAY" as though that's such a scary, disordered thing. I roll my eyes every time.

Once per day seems pretty healthy at this point. I know my stepping on and off the scale multiple times over the day while calculating "am, I hydrated? how many hours since I last ate? how much salt/sugar have I had? what am I wearing?" is insane, but I can't stop.

I can't stop stepping on and off the scale.

I can't stop drinking.

I can't stop eating.

I can't stop starving.

I just can't stop.

Travels and races

Visited some friends in South Carolina over Memorial day. When we were getting ready to go to the beach, my friend was lamenting her weight gain since moving about a year ago. I mentioned that I had gained weight but recently lost some of it, and that I currently weigh about 155. She looked genuinely shocked that I told her that number and said she would have guessed I was 130. I usually think people are just being overly flattering when they say things like that, but she's a pretty honest friend and sounded legitimately surprised.

Wouldn't 130 be nice?!

I'll get there.

In other news, my sister-in-law convinced me to run a 10k with her when I visit her in New Hampshire in July. What she didn't say up front is that it's a race that has been named the "most competitive hill climb" by Runner's World magazine. The final kilometer of the race is apparently up a grassy slope that exceeds a 40% grade. Yikes. I live in the flat Midwest and am definitely not conditioned for that.

I guess it's motivation to find as many hills as I can and run up them.