What a Long, Strange Trip It's Been

I’ve been a little lax on the cardio front lately, and today seemed destined to be one of those days where no matter how much I push at various commitments in an effort to squeeze out some time, nothing gives an inch.

And then I had a flash of inspiration: Why not run to the dentist’s office and back?

It was slightly embarrassing turning up at the dentist’s a bit sweaty, but hey, loads of people cycle in London, and at least I’d brushed my teeth. Total cardio notched up: A half hour. And not only did I have no cavities (I have the world’s worst teeth), the dentist said to me approvingly: “You don’t eat much sugar, do you?”

Um, except for my twice daily (trying to cut it down to once daily) chocolate snacks. But hey, I guess the brushing and flossing is paying off.

* * *

Yesterday – for the first time -- I wore a skirt that doesn’t fit if I gain so much as a quarter of a pound. Yes, it is a frivolous purchase, but would you pass up a £1,500 skirt (no, special magic powers are not included at that price) you found for £75 at a sample sale? I thought not.

The World’s Most Hideously Overpriced Skirt is dove gray, ruched and knee length – and totally impossible to walk in. I’m not kidding. I had to use the elevator at work to go three floors up, something I never do, lest I rip the skirt trying to get a foot up on the stair. And as I stood there in the elevator I couldn’t help thinking how ironic it was that I have to be at my thinnest to wear the damn skirt, yet its design prevents me from doing anything to maintain that weight.

And when I checked myself out in the elevator’s mirror (because let’s face it, everyone does) I decided the skirt’s ruching actually made me look fat.

* * *

It's been nearly two years since I started losing weight (well, this time around), and still I can't stop noting all the ways life has changed.

Here's another one, courtesy of Tuesday night’s Kaiser Chiefs show: I was jumping up and down (grateful that I was light enough -- and fit enough -- to do this without breaking into a major sweat) and landed squarely on some poor guy's foot. Instead of groaning, saying something nasty and/or rolling his eyes at his (male) friend, he smiled at me. (I was so flustered and surprised I nearly forgot to apologize.)

I feel like I'm getting boring in all of my gratitude. I wouldn't say I used to radiate negativity, but I'm definitely Ms Glass is Half Empty, and I've been known to be awfully critical of myself (not to mention other people). It's a strange, strange feeling to be so pleased with myself and the changes I've made -- and yet at the same time feel like (actually, be quite sure) they can be undone in a weekend.

It's been more than 70 days since I've binged now, and day by day I feel stronger. Except -- paradoxically -- on days when I don't. There are still days when all I want to do is toast half a loaf of bread and cover it in butter and eat it, one slice after another, without stopping. (And I never even used to eat toast, weirdly enough.) There are still days where I feel like all I do is wait until my next chance to eat again.

I wish I could take comfort on those days in knowing that the wheel will turn – that the feeling of needing to eat, to stuff myself will pass. That it will fade – actually will just suddenly turn -- into happy, at-peace days where I think: I can live like this. I can live with eating the way I currently do. On days when I’m at peace with food, I can’t imagine why I would want to live any other way. Life may not be worth living without my yellow cake with icing and my macaroni and cheese and my biscuits (the American variety) and my butter and my food in general, but at the same time, nor is any food in the world worth setting off the downward spiral of “I need more of that in huge quantities rightthisverysecond” or “I ate way too much” or “I haven’t heard a single thing anyone’s said all evening because all I can think is ‘how can I sneak more?’” But where is the balance between the two?