*SIGH*

Well, this post may irritate all you good people out there (all one of you), as I am going to moan about something that is completely and utterly my fault and that is perfectly changeable should I actually take charge and do something about it. So, yes; irritating. But then, this is my Blog.
So; tough! *bright smile*

Ugh. I really, really have to do something about my size. Really really lemon squeezey, with a fake umbrella and a glacial cherry on top. And I know, I know, I had that great plan, and it WAS great and IS great, except that the second I get upset, that plan - along with any other I've tried over the years - is thrown out of the window and...to put it bluntly, well, I stuff my face. A lot. And that is what I have been doing ever since just a couple of days after I foolishly told my Blog (and possibly...unlikely...but possibly, therefore the world) that I was doing this whole eating plan and it was based on 'non-deprivation but control' (or some fancy pantsy stuff like that) and that it was going great.

Kiss of death, that. Every time you actually admit that something that requires will power is going well, something WILL happen to sabotage it. In my instance, that something is emotional. If I get nervous or worried (like about joining a choir) or upset or distressed (for instance because I have been verbally berated for not doing my job at speeds that are physically impossible), I eat. A lot. And I know that it's bad and I know I shouldn't and I know I regret it afterwards but I do it anyway, and the really stupid thing is that I only have 28 lbs to lose. 2 stone is my goal*. And 2 stone is nothing! Even going incredibly slowly and gently, losing an average of 1lb a week, that's a little over half a year to target.

I know why I do it, because very recently my then counselor helped me work it out (among other things) and clarify exactly what was going on. It's called "self destructive loop behaviour" (fancy title or what?): basically every time I get upset my mind overreacts and I am compelled to engage in self destructive behaviour - in my case eating - rather than face the actual issue at hand. All very smart and psychobabble sounding. To put it simply, I am a "comfort eater" rather than just "greedy" (though I am that too, obviously), which is bad, obviously, and rather hard to control. In fact, I have never controlled it. It just starts and then I spend a while pigging out before I manage to claw my way out and start all over again having wrecked any progress I may have made. Which is great to know. But doesn't help me to get OUT of it.

Only I can, I know that. I need to find "coping strategies that work for me" (sorry; more psychobabble. I can't seem to stop) and that I am able to use instead allowing myself back into the "self-destruct part" of my "emotional loop" (really: can't stop).  Which is all well and good and I thought I had worked it out ready, but when it came down to it I forgot (or ignored. But lets not quibble) all about that and just did as I have always have done, and the upshot is that I am now incredibly bloated and feel nauseous and disgusted with myself. I'm not going to put into type exactly HOW much (or WHAT) I have been eating because I can't bear it, but to give you an idea; think of how much (and what) YOU would eat if you absolutely and totally pigged out, then times that by (at least) three. Then imagine it on top of ordinary meals and repeating for up to three or four weeks at a time. Yeah. That much. As an already big girl, I have a capacity to eat more than most people would think physically possible, and to keep on doing it, over and over again.

Anyway, starting now, right this second, I am picking myself up (mentally speaking) and starting again.

I know that there are other options available - various slimming clubs for example - but I don't want to do that (not again, not ever). I don't want to go to be weighed weekly at the doctors (yet again) either. I want to do something that I feel happy with. I want...I want... Well, I want to be able to actually ENJOY food, rather than counting calories or weighing portions and panicking every time I feel hungry. I want it to be an enjoyable part of my day, rather than something I am at war with. And I think the plan I worked out does that, I really do. Because my plan DOES work for me on an ordinary day to day basis. I stopped getting bigger, felt healthier, and even though I was still eating a lot, I began to lose weight. While I was "practicing" before I faced the scales I lost 6lbs in three weeks. That's an average of 2lbs a week. Then I lost a further 2lbs in the two weeks I was weighing, which I'll have put back on now, obviously, but forgetting that; as weight-loss goes, that's pretty good, right? No, the plan works: I just need to deal with how I deal with things when I am upset. I'd have to do that anyway, no matter what I was doing. It's just something I need to work on. I need to break the loop.

And I will. I'm determined that I will. Because I want the old Me back. The one that was plump and curved and healthy and beautiful and happy with herself. I know that I am still in there. I just need to find Me again and draw Me out into the daylight.

And I will.

Thanks for listening, Blog. I feel a lot better now I've talked about it. Better enough to actually enjoy Bingo's walk (which he has been hinting for for the past half an hour), rather than merely enduring it because I have to. And considering how I have been feeling, that's good. Really good.

Toodles.

Alice. xxx

* Of course, the actual amount I need to lose to be the "right weight", the one according to the medical profession, is actually closer to eight and a half stone. That would get me down to between 9 and 10 stone and within the "healthy weight range" for my diddy 5 foot 3 height. But in my opinion I need to lose only two stone, getting me down to around 16 stone, or maybe 15 and a half should I go an extra bit further and lose 2 and 1/2 rather than just the 2. 
That is still 6 stone heavier than is "healthy", but frankly I don't care. My body is happy at that size. Therefore I am, too. And in any case, to get down to the weight the doctors want, not only would I have to deprive myself to the point of being starving and miserable all the time, but by their own admission I would need to undergo surgery and have a breast reduction to reduce the resulting pressure on my back and lungs, and my response to that was an unequivocal "NO", and still is. Just..."NO".