What a difference a year makes.
Today, January 1, 2003, I don’t know how much I weigh. I think it’s somewhere in the 280s, but I haven’t weighed. Part of me is afraid to, part of me wonders what good it would do since I can’t do anything about it right now, and part of me is happy to be going back to familiar territory (although the path is unfamiliar).
How bizarre is this?
Let me start out by saying that I did reach another mini-goal, a real milestone for me: 233. (I actually made it all the way to 232.) However, it was a hard-won mini-goal (the hardest yet), and I bounced around for 3 months between very strict paleo/antiyeast and regular Atkins.
It just wasn’t fair that I couldn’t eat regular Atkins anymore and expect to lose weight. I began to lose hope in my ability to get beyond this obstacle, but I persevered somewhat on less-than-perfect paleo/antiyeast. I had lost my motivation – The Captain – and began to gain weight.
Oh, nothing terribly horrible. I got back to 240, then 242. I was panicked, but not enough to do anything about it. I had healed emotionally from The Captain, so I struggled with the fact that I had no more motivation. I was finished with men. I had a new job. I had stripped my life down to the nubs so I would have little stress. I was fine with being single. I was on my way to being happy.
And then . . .
I met my future husband.
Mind, I made my wedding dress, my mother’s dress, all the wedding reception gewgaws, and generally put together the entire shindig myself. I am not into spending the GDP of a small nation for a wedding. Therefore, the original plan entailed my making my wedding cakes, as well.
You must understand. Wedding cake is probably my favorite food in the world. I have never been able to duplicate the taste, much less the look, no matter how proficient an artisan I am in other areas. I knew this about myself, and so I knew I needed to practice if I was going to save myself a bundle of money. Those practice cakes were ugly, and they died horrible deaths – deaths the scale documented, although I am unsure of the connection.
(For inquiring minds everywhere, I gave up the ghost and spent a good deal of money on the exact cake I wanted.)
In any case, I had to let out the skirt of my wedding dress because I’d gained 20 pounds before I got married. I didn’t much care, frankly, although I was a little alarmed. I figured I could take it off easily enough after the wedding on Friday, September 13. After all, my hubster had a few to lose, and he had found some success with Atkins as well. He knew my stand on the eating issue in a family situation, and had agreed it was the best course for the both of us, and should be fine for any kids that would come along.
We tried, bless our hearts. We did. And then . . .
I got pregnant.
At first I despaired, thinking I never “had the chance” to get thin before I got pregnant. This, in combination with the fact that I could now not stand the sight of meat, made me feel out of control and a little bitter.
But babies have a way of having their way, and I knew I was not going to be able to control this, so why fight it?
So on January 1, 2003, I am a world away from where I was this time last year. I have no New Year’s Resolutions. Although I do have control over what I put in my mouth, I have no control over what my body does with it. To wit: I can’t keep down vitamins and meat.
However, I may be gaining weight, and I may be off plan (how’d you guess?), but I finally have two of the three things I have always wanted most in my life: a man who loves me and a family in the baking.
Suddenly, there seem to be a lot more important things to do than obsess over weight.