When I was doing Atkins the first time, I started writing a nonfiction book about being low-carb and loving it. The other day, I stumbled on these pages again. They read a lot like blog posts, so I thought, “Why not share them like they are?”
Over the years, I’ve tried to diet many times.
In high school, when I wasn’t following Mom’s NutriSystem plan, I’d just plain skip lunch. (I liked saving my lunch money for things that tasted better than school lunches, like Hostess Twinkies and cupcakes.) Occasionally, I’d take a Slim-Fast bar to school with me and eat that at lunchtime. (Trust me, their taste has greatly improved over the years.)
In college, I was too busy working and studying to worry too much about dieting. Oh, who am I kidding? I was too busy eating — and enjoying every bite — to care how much weight I’d put on.
In addition to the not-so-healthy lunches and brunches, there were breakfasts of PopTarts and Dr Pepper and late-night pizza snacks. Wednesday night was pizza night at my college newspaper office. Our adviser ordered pizza to feed all of us hard-working editor types while we worked to put out that week’s paper.
A few years after graduation, I tried to lose weight. Though I never actually joined Weight Watchers and went to weekly meetings, I subscribed to the magazine and tried out a lot of the recipes. I got a yearly planner in which to keep track of what I ate, how many glasses of water I drank and how much I exercised (which was never very much).
I’d stick with the program for a while, but never long enough to see impressive results. Something would happen to make me cheat on my diet — like I’d get tried of starving myself. I’d get hungry — and a salad with a boneless, skinless (flavorless) chicken breast wasn’t going to fill me up. Before I knew it, I’d be out enjoying a burger and onion rings, or a nice slice — or two or four — of pizza.
And then? Well, I’d blown it. Once again, I’d rather eat what I liked — damn the nutrition content — and be full than starve myself to be thin.
Again and again, I’d follow the pattern: Diet until I started to feel like I was starving, then start eating everything I could get my hands on. (The chocolate-nut brownies from the vending machine at work were a particular favorite of mine.)
“Lose weight and exercise more” was my standing New Year’s Resolution.
Looking back, I wonder if I might have been a binge eater. No purging, though: Just eating a lot more than I should have. Spaghetti was particularly good at inducing me to overeat. I’d inhale a heaping plateful and then decide I wanted more, even though I didn’t need it. Halfway through that second plate, I’d be stuffed — but by then I had to finish it, because there wasn’t enough left to save.
God forbid I just throw it away. I hated to waste perfectly good food — unless, of course, it was a salad. Seems I had no qualms about buying produce and letting it moulder in the fridge.
I still buy veggies and end up not eating them before they go bad.
Hmm … 30-plus (now 40) years in this body and I’m still trying to figure out how the brain works.
More to come …