One Year

The physicist picked me up. As in, lifted me off the ground and started carrying me up Upper Street.

I had forgotten about this until late Sunday afternoon. It was nice, even though I made him put me down for fear of being unceremoniously dropped. (Splat. On Upper Street. In a minidress. That would be bad. Minidress?, you ask. Minidress was a 25 euro gamble in Spain – a gamble because I doubted I’d have the nerve to wear it. I’m still not sure I do. Some of my old t-shirts are probably longer than that dress.)

Anyway, about being picked up: It was thrilling, if a little scary. And I don’t just mean fear of being dropped. I know this will sound crazy, but there was something almost scary about finding out someone can pick me up and there’s not much I can do to stop it. (This wasn’t the case on Saturday – I was fine – but…)

Fine Print: Before anybody – myself included – gets too excited about the physicist, let us pause to note that there is absolutely zero long-term potential there. He’s fun, but he’s all over the shop (part of what makes him fun). And there are other reasons.

• * *

Yesterday I did something I never would have done a year ago: I put myself and my health ahead of my work.

This week I’m dealing with an editor who has kittens over things as minor as stray commas, and this morning at 2 a.m. I actively had to talk myself out of doing the Devil Wears Prada thing and tossing my blackberry into the nearest fountain or river. (Also out of quitting my job on the spot.) I had a follow-up appointment yesterday about my binge-eating problems, and the appointment is hard enough to get in the first place, let alone change or cancel. Plus, I reasoned, for what reason was I canceling? The magazine doesn’t close until tonight, and the bottom line is that this is a 300-word story we’re talking about.

So I told her, calmly and politely, that I had a hospital appointment that could not be changed and that I would be back by 5 p.m. (noon EST).

Like most NY editors, she cannot get her head around time change, and said: “Well, you’ll have to do it before you go.” I pointed out that it was 2:45 p.m. my time, and that I had to leave right that minute to get to the appointment on time.

“Oh,” she said. She started to protest, but shut up when I told her I’d planned to stay late that night. (Not until 2 a.m., but never mind about that.)

I went to my appointment. I tried to focus on it instead of worrying about the article (and mostly succeeded, except when we ran over a bit and I started panicking about time). For the record, the therapist was a whole lot nicer than she was the week before. Yes, everyone is capable of having a bad day…
* * *

Today marks a year of This Thing I’m Doing.

Height: 5’8”
Start weight: 233 (105.91 kgs)
Today’s weight: 160.5 (72.95 kgs)
Pounds lost: 72.5

Starting size: 18/20 UK – probably really a 20, but I had to pretend an 18 would sometimes fit (20 US)
Today’s size: 10/12 UK (6/8 US)

Total binges this year: 5 or 6 (I can just about remember having that many in a single week or two)

Servings of fruit and vegetables consumed: Far too many to think about
Workouts completed: ditto

Wow. A whole year. I remember exactly where I was a year ago: I’d just finished a pasta, arronicini, and chocolate-fueled assignment in Italy covering TomKat’s wedding, and stayed there for Thanksgiving to further bloat myself with more pasta, chocolate, and the festive dinner at a wine editor friend’s (she gets two bottles of every vintage produced in Italy – think we drank much?) By the end of the holiday weekend, I felt revolting – and was almost excited to get started on Project Me.

My goals then were just to put one foot in front of the other and not to gain (too much) weight during the holiday season, so as not to make my task harder in January.

And here I am. I hit the first goal weight I set for myself (164 – the very top number of my healthy weight range), but now I think I’d like a few pounds buffer for the inevitable five pounds I’m told weight usually varies. (I’d prefer to not be technically in the “overweight” range the minute I have a big meal.) So I’m thinking 158, which is a neat 75 pounds.

That said, I’m not sure it’s a realistic goal to peel off the last 2.5 pounds during December. So current goal is to fit in as many workouts as I can (I’ll be packing cold weather running gear for Christmas in Scotland!) and not to go above 164. Frankly, I’d like to not put on any weight, but let’s be a little realistic, shall we? Last year I was seriously hardcore (as in hardcore dieter) in December, and I know – for sake of binge eating recovery, if nothing else! – I need to let myself enjoy the holiday a bit.