From my archives (14/9/05):
So my pact with myself is this – when I get to 70 kilograms, I’m packing
away the scales. I’ll rely on other means to judge my size – measurements and
clothes and things. At the moment, I want to lose weight and the scales are the
best way to judge that, but when I’m at goal I want my focus to be on toning and
staying healthy, not on “oh my god, I’m 65 kilos and I can’t be happy unless I’m
64!” – who needs that shit?
So have I? Are the scales put away? Am I not caring? Hell no! Instead I’m stressing over every calorie and freaking out if I only burn off 500 calories a day. I’m more obsessed about my weight now than ever (although not enough to say no to the chocobanana truffle ball with coffee last night).
I’ve got this too-shiny-to-be-true image of me a year ago in my head and I try to get back to that – that me never skipped a workout, never eat the wrong thing, never ate for the hell of it. I feel I have to be that person.
Sometimes I feel like if I’m not constantly vigilant, I’ll balloon up overnight. I feel like I have to get to 65 kgs, then I can stop. I obsess more now than I ever have about my weight. Yet I eat too much then stress about that. Instead of replacing emotional eating with sanity, I’ve replaced it with dieting obsession.
After a lifetime of being fat, I can be a normal weight in my body but it’s much hard to not be fat in my head.
Imagine if you were born in say France but, when you were quite young, you moved to Australia. You might have known French once but you no longer have any lingering trace of the language left. That’s like me and eating.