Of Cravings and Cellulite

Have I mentioned I’ve been exhausted lately? Well, I’ve been exhausted lately. Not just kinda tired, but trudging-along-can’t-quite-shuffle-up-the-Tube-steps tired. Everything seems like a lot of effort, and a couple of times I’ve actually gotten back into bed, which is something I _never_ do.

Often when I’m dragging exercise wakes me up, but today I decided the most loving thing I could do for myself was not to force the workout. Even though I had a few days off last week and have been struggling to do much of a workout on other days, I figured a day off might help me kick whatever this is. At 4 pm, I began despairing of managing to get to town to see a friend I’ve been looking forward to seeing for ages. For energy, I ate an extra two fingers of Kit Kat beyond my usual snack – also something I never do. I still didn’t feel better. (Frankly, the extra chocolate just made me want to keep eating.)

Had lovely catch-up with friend and dinner at Yo Sushi, where, frankly, I could have kept eating and eating. If I could have dived into a mountain of fried rice and noodles, I might well have, though I managed to stick to sushi and sashimi and edamame. It has been nine days since my last binge, and as we walked down Oxford Street the smell of Belgian waffles was almost unbearable. (Lovely friend says they don’t taste nice.) I eyed the fruit stand: cherries, white peaches, nectarines, all of which set off sugar cravings if I’m in the wrong head space, which I definitely was. I thought about all the other things I might like to eat. I wondered if Selfridges might still be open – if I could get a cupcake. I thought about cakes and chocolates and ice cream. I thought about how crummy I would feel tomorrow, and how miserable I’d be starting over at Day 1 again.

Suddenly I had a bit more energy. I looked at the time and realized if I walked quickly to the Tube and had reasonably decent transport karma (never a sure thing), I could make it to the gym in time for a 40-minute workout before it closed. I told myself even 20 minutes would probably be better than none.

I made it. I worked out. I feel better.

* * *

Tonight’s outing was the inaugural appearance of my new Scala knickers that contain what are supposed to be cellulite-busting bio crystals. (They were £30 – I gave up diet Coke for two weeks to buy them. Not sure whether it’s sadder that I had to scrimp (these are the only item of clothing I’ve bought in months) or that I drink so much diet Coke that I can save that much in two weeks.) As the Brits would say, I think they’re pants.

Why? Frankly, they feel like Spanx control underwear, which make me feel fat because I used to wear Spanx (or something like them) all the time, in an attempt to squeeze into clothes that were too tight for me. How I loathe that feeling of fat-girl-about-to-bust-her-pants, and these knickers were just snug enough to make me feel that way. Nor did I like the way my jeans and top looked on top of them – you could see the line they made beneath my bra, and they made my jeans stretch a bit, and not in a nice way. Ugh.

The best part of wearing them was taking them off. I put on my gym clothes and felt positively lithe and lean without my sausage-casing knickers. Maybe they were worth the £30 just for that.