If I were to try and define my dieting week in a few simple words, I would probably boil it down to two buffets, two working dinners, four lots of calorie carnage and a handful of steps in the wrong direction. But strangely, no recriminations. Well, not from me anyway. I wish I’d held the line but I didn’t. I tripped up, but now I’ve dusted myself off and hopefully my three-day dalliance with the fuck up fairy will be netted out by the days where I was able to look myself in the eye and know I’d turned in a textbook performance.
I did get a telling off though, from a lady who reads the blog who is frustrated at my lack of progress and is also holding me responsible for the fact that she’s eaten three big bowls of pasta this week.
It rattled me a bit, I’ve got to be honest. I mean, that’s my biggest fear, you know? I love the fact that you guys are walking every step along this path with me, and I draw so much strength from your company and your encouragement, and your wise words when the going gets tough. Equally, I feel honoured that you allow me to share your journey too. But I’ve always worried that I might be setting a bad example when I face-plant into the wrong kind of tasty and then tell you all about it.
I’ve always justified it in my own mind by telling myself that you all know I write the blog to keep myself accountable, and I’ve never pretended to have all the answers. To be fair, any one of you could probably hold this blog aloft as a shining example of how not to lose weight, because a lot of the time I’m very successful at not losing a fucking ounce.
I didn’t approve her comment, so you won’t see it in the thought threads…it had a tone to it that I didn’t much like, so I filed it in the shit tray. In any event I suspect you lot would have lynched her, and none of us need that kind of drama, right? These are friendly pages. But I think what she was trying to say was that the way I write things down makes her think that it’s okay to cheat on her diet too, because I seem to get away with it and I should take some responsibility and try harder so she can feel inspired and do better too.
She’s probably right.
My problem is, I’ve spent a lifetime not being honest with myself about the reason I’m fat. I’ve shied away from being accountable, and I’ve blamed the size of my arse on everyone and everything except my fucked-up relationship with food. Being honest this time, and hiding behind nothing at all is the only reason I’m still here.
So lady, I’m genuinely sorry if you’re not getting what you need in these pages. I suspect you’re in the wrong blog. Maybe you could try and find one with pictures of smooth-limbed skinny string beans sipping cucumber water who are itching to tell you all the reasons why they’re so fucking perfect.
I’m not there yet, and it might take a while 🙂