Second Guesses

So, it's been a bit of a struggle today. I think it all went wrong last night, where I had no motivation to do anything. Lulled by the torrential rain outside, I had an early shower and was tucked up in bed with the lights off by ten-thirty. Generally I go to sleep long after midnight, so this was...unusual. I figured getting extra sleep -- and I had been up early to finish the roulade before work -- might give me a bit more energy. Unfortunately, this was not to be; I was woken up at three in the morning by the cats and the rain, and I never really got back to sleep. So, I've struggled mightily through today, and even though I feel cranky and tired and unmotivated still, I really am not going to be going to sleep before eleven-thirty. Dammit.

Hilariously, I still struggled this morning to get through making my breakfast; I'd been awake since three, but I didn't get out of bed until quarter past seven so it was a rush to make my omelette. But I was having the omelette, dammit. Ah, irony, my old friend...

My problem right now is obsession. I can't stop thinking about food. As I said the other day, I also contemplate quitting the programme at least once a day. Usually it's more guilt over how long it's taking than anything else. I don't actually crave the other food; I mean, I drove past Micky D's on the way home and it's not like I actually wanted it. And there were biscuits and slices and things scattered all through the staffroom today, and I didn't really want them either. It's more...I miss choice, I suppose. Because the stupid thing is? I like what I am eating. In fact, I will continue to eat variations of these meals far into the future, because I enjoy them. But I think I'm chafing against the strictness of this regime right now, and it's just...yeah. I want to be able to make my own mistakes. Though of course the thing is? I've made enough mistakes for the meantime...

I keep focusing on the negative, too. I mean, in reality, it's only six and a half more weeks to go. This isn't counting refeed, of course, but that's not the point. But then I get scared that I won't lose the weight in that time, even though I know that I will as long as I don't do stupid things. And I did recommit today; my six months is up in five days, and I called my consultant and paid up for another three months. And I can finish in that time. I want to be finished by the end of April, for crying out loud. But she just seemed taken aback that my weight was still 63kg. I have to keep reminding myself that really, being 63kg now after only two weeks back on the programme after six weeks of dicking around? Is pretty damn good, considering my lowest weight beforehand was 63.8kg. I really didn't gain that much, even with the dumb choices that were made, so...learning experience. Yes, so I could have finished long before now. And I keep thinking of that, which is the problem. "If you'd just stuck to the programme, you'd be finished now!" Yes, that's true. But that's not to say I'd have been in the right headspace for it. Chances are I'd have gone completely nuts as soon as I was finished and just flown off the handle. So...yeah. Learning experience, blah blah blah. Just keep swimming, as Dory would say.

Day Two - What is your height? How do you feel about your height?

I'm about a hundred and fifty-eight centimetres short. I've always felt my height: from childhood I've been either the shortest or the next-shortest person in my class. I never minded this much; I always felt small and dainty, to be honest! Like a fairy, or something. And I flitted around like one, too. I only really started to resent my height when the weight crept on, as it only served to make me dumpy and hobbit-ish. Right now my height irritates me in that if I was a few inches taller I'd be at goal weight, but that's really just me being Negative Nelly again. In the long run? I don't really mind being short, even when I do have to climb shelves to get at medications in the dispensary. Besides, I can run in five inch platform heels. That's real talent.

...so, that's the meme for today, along with my whine. I need to start focusing on things in my life that aren't food. I mean, tomorrow I am coming home from work to make Guinness gingerbread for St. Patrick's Day on Thursday, and I am agonising over whether or not to make coconut ice to go with it. This is the gluten-free thing again, of course, but the thing is that I could dye the coloured half of the coconut ice green instead of the traditional pink, and...yeah. It's also an excuse to use my sugar thermometer. But then I keep thinking: "Maybe this IS just torturing yourself!" Because last night I certainly sat around reading recipes and things and depressing myself. So...tonight? I am studying Japanese and watching anime and that's that. Although maybe I am also feeling a bit sad because I finally found some "kiddie" hot cross buns today at the supermarket. My workmate and I have been hunting in vain for them for the last week and a half, and today when I was getting Diet Coke for my break I found them. So, I bought one packet for her, and one for me. She ate hers with great delight for lunch, though mine are snugly stowed in the freezer. I mean, it would be nice to have one. But I don't really crave them, as I said above. It's not physical at all. It's all in my head.

In the end I suppose it therefore makes complete sense that my ability to get through the next six and a half weeks? Is also all in my head. I can do it, I know that. Just...focus on the here and now, and stop making food the cornerstone of everything. だから、今あたしは日本語を勉強して行っていますよ！　頑張れ、クレアちゃん！