Sixty Days

I have to be honest: I’d hoped that after two months of not bingeing, buying jeans would be more pleasant. That I’d like what I saw in the mirror better.

I didn’t. The truth is that even after two months of not bingeing – and watching portion sizes -- I am still heavier (or at least bigger, since I haven’t gotten on a scale) than I was when I was at my heaviest last year, which felt plenty big enough.

I felt so huge I actually had to go and try on the one pair of jeans I kept from when I was at my absolute heaviest. You can imagine I was relieved when they were so big as to be unwearable.

This is the thing: Except for the past couple of days, when I have been doubting myself and the way I’m eating, the past two months I’ve been more free of food obsession than at any point I can remember in my entire life. I don’t finish a meal and immediately wonder about the next. I very rarely clock-check wondering when it will be time to eat again. I don’t struggle to work through hunger, because (mostly) I’m not. And walking by bakeries and other places I used to binge does not require superhuman effort. The other night I walked home at 12.30 am, after a few glasses of wine, which normally would be prime binge time for me, and it just wasn’t really a thought.

I would for sure like to be thinner, and – given how carefully I’m eating and the amount I exercise – I’m frustrated that I’m not. But the minute I think about making any changes or trying to cut anything, I’m immediately hungry (and the other night had to cab home after a night out because I didn’t trust myself not to stop at shops and binge otherwise). So I’m tabling the decision for another month. Sanity or being thinner? I don’t want to choose, and for right now, I’m not going to.