Just a Drill

Well, this morning, my bathroom scale dropped me down a full pound to 193. Last night, the scale at the doctor’s office showed a four pound drop over the prior week, which puts it 2.5 pounds heavier than my weight this morning, which is pretty much the differential I’ve had between home/morning and office/evening weights this whole time.

So, my abject panic over my scale being unable to reflect a weight below 194 has been calmed. Sorry to lose it.

My nutritionist ran another bioelectrical impedance analysis last night, which generated some more good news. When I started this whole shooting match, fat body mass (as opposed to lean, or muscle mass), accounted for 43.1% of my weight. In August, that had fallen to 40.4%. Last night, I was down to 37.7%.

I am definitely, demonstrably, losing fat and only a little bit of muscle, which is good. The other numbers and ratios that are supposed to stay relatively stable are staying relatively stable, which is also good.

We talked in our group about how we are going to manage the transition from the rigorous shakes-only regimen to real, glorious food. We discussed sabotage, by ourselves and others, and techniques we’re going to use to stay on track.

Monday, I was working on a project for someone who had sent me an email that really upset me, and found myself pacing around the house, always toward the kitchen. I wasn’t hungry, but I wanted to eat. If the same situation had happened a year ago this time, I probably would have been halfway through a bag of Halloween candy, since compulsively downing tiny chocolate bars has always been a favorite way for me to handle stress in October.

Thank goodness I realized what was going on. Someone criticized me and my work, and I wanted to cope with it by eating.

Hell, no.

I have worked too hard to lose this damn weight, and it is too important to me to be healthy, and I was not about to let a snippy email from a client derail that.

I had a big glass of Crystal Light (how depressing is using sugar-free pomegranate lemonade as a binge food?!) and sat back down, determined to finish the work and be done with the stress.

Tuesday, I got an email from that same client. The issue that had caused the criticism, it turned out, had nothing to do with me. The client apologized very sincerely. I still feel a little tense about the engagement, because I don’t want to disappoint them going forward, but at least I didn’t carb-flog myself in the midst of it all. At least I realized that I was about to sabotage myself, and found a way to stop.

I get a little overwhelmed late at night thinking about the fact that every day for the rest of my life I am going to have to be on guard against my own brain. The call is coming from inside the house! I’m hoping that every time I break that cycle, every time I recognize it and consciously stop it, I’m getting myself closer to the day when that cycle is permanently broken, when the chocolate will pick up the phone receiver and not get a dial tone.

We are our own worst enemies too often. Truce! Truce! Onward through the day!

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