So, I've confessed to being off track. And this weekend I was intent on turning it all around and getting my ass into gear.
Instead, I binged. Fully and completely and with reckless abandon.
I don't want to think about food anymore. I don't want to think about how much to eat, or when, or what, or why. I don't want to think about my weight, my pants getting tighter, my stomach sticking out like a pregnant belly, my arms jiggling, my face rounding. I don't want to worry any more about my health, my happiness, my self-hatred, my self-esteem.
I just want to fucking be.
But I can't be. Not yet. I still have to work.
It's time to get back to basics. It's time to rediscover the principles, the core tenets, the things that helped me in the beginning. I need to pretend this is all new to me, not an old familiar song I'm forced to sing again and again. I get so down on myself whenever I feel like I'm starting over, like it's something to be ashamed of, humiliated by. But it's not.
It's just life.
I woke up this morning and went to the grocery store. I got good things for the work fridge, so I should be set for breakfasts and lunches this week. I will get my dinners sorted out tonight. I will clean my fucking kitchen. I will get my shit together.
For the next three days, I will eat as well as I can. I will not track, I will not curse myself, I will not get down if I falter. But I will just try. Ease back into it. Rediscover the healthy habits I know I've had before.
Then August 1st, baby. It's back to Weight Watchers. I know what works, I know what I need to do. I need to track everything I eat, I need to continue with this yoga streak I'm on (five days in a row!), and I need to be gentle with myself.
Back to basics.
I can do this.
I just have to try.