The wastepaper basket in my room was a disgrace last week. I am not ashamed of the cotton buds or the credit card bill envelope or the Durex wrapper, it’s more about the shiny slippery papers that once covered chocolate-related products.
The collection ran into double figures.
What the bloody hell came over me last week? It was one long, unthinking, barely-tasting chocolate binge. I kept wandering to the vending machine at work, stopping at the corner shop on the way home. And again, it was all secret scoffing. I kept walking back and forth to the office fridge to discreetly break off chunks of Mars.
I can’t even blame it on PMS, it was pure piggery. Monday night I sat there reading the King Size Twix nutrition information and realising I’d just eaten 20 grams of fat in five minutes. I looked across at the overflowing basket and said out loud, what the hell are you doing?
And it’s such an insult to my body, after all the effort I’ve been putting into Julia’s running program. The first session was fun, I went out with my sister who’s decided to train with me. It’s mostly walking at this stage, you must remember I’m a slug who took the past six weeks off exercise (lifting a shotglass full of vodka to ones throat doesn’t really constitute a bicep workout) and has never run before. The second session was even better because we set out at 6.15 AM. The early morning sun was beautiful and the park was empty aside from us, so I didn’t feel all embarrassed about moving around. And I felt all energetic and smug all day, since I’d got the exercise out of the way already.
Monday’s session was fantastic. We walked along the canal, something I’ve not bothered to do before, so now I’ve discovered a whole new part of town. It’s so brilliant being outside, talking to my sister, getting some fresh air. I am trying to take it slow to start with, my muscles are tingling in all new ways and places, but in the good way. I want this to be a long-term project, not some fad I get sick of after a month.
But all that effort is pretty pointless if I am going to eat like a pork. I was so weak and sluggish on my Saturday and Monday sessions. My concentration was non-existent. One is not meant to eat a pound of chocolate in a week.
I am forcing myself to stop and think about what I am doing. This week I’m tracking my food, something I’ve neglected to do since March. I’m drinking my water and I ignored all the cakes sitting across from my desk here at work. I have left all my cash at home so I can’t use the vending machine. This week I am aiming for baby steps in the right direction.
I am still trying to figure out what prompted my binging. I was so deliberate and calculating about it. Do you ever feel like you’re so eager to be skinny and tap into the sexy clothes and supple flesh, but part of you is afraid of missing out on something if you don’t stay fat?