The last month I've been at war with my head. I've found myself falling into old habits. I've bought and hid items that I know darn well are no good for me. Of course I eat them when no one is around (helllooo! Can you say binge?). One day I bought not one but two pieces of cake from the grocery store. I know what you're thinking. "Store bought cake? What the hell was she thinking?" Oh but wait! It gets worse. I put the kids to bed, pull out both pieces of cake, and proceed to eat enough until I only dump mildly. The sick part of it was that I actually gave myself a pat on the back for eating enough to only make myself a little sick. Realizing my stupidity I closed the containers and tossed them in the trash. I wish that was the end of the story but it continues to get worse. The next day I'm running errands like a crazy person and finally decide around 2 that I should have a meal since I hadn't eaten anything solid all day. So instead of having some nuts and cheese or a quick sandwich on a stick (deli meat wrapped around string cheese) I dig through my trash and pull out the containers of cake. The packaging was a little messy but hey, the cake inside was perfectly clean. I ate cake until I caused myself some pretty intense intestinal pain and ended up having to call my neighbor to go get my kids from school. Later on I tearfully confessed to my husband who was wise enough to take the trash out to the dumpster. We tried to analyze why I would do something so stupid. All we could come up with is that I was really stressed out. Pre-WLS if I was stressed, mad, tired, etc., etc., I would eat. I would eat large quantities of foods that I knew were horrible for me. Usually it would be when I was alone or sometimes there would be a houseful of people but I'd escape to another room and inhale whatever I thought would make me feel better. This incident is reminiscent of those times and I'm a little bit freaked out by the whole situation. I knew going into this surgery that it would not rewire my brain. During my psych consult I told the doc that I felt like my biggest battle would be more of an emotional than a physical one. I guess I unrealistically hoped that by eight months out this would be easier for me. The truth of the matter is that it's not. The honeymoon period is over for me. I'm down 64 pounds but my weight loss has slowed down considerably. This past month I'm only down 3 pounds. In the beginning it was easier to feel like I wasn't being deprived because the weight was melting off quickly. Now that it has slowed down it has become increasingly harder for me to see the glass as half full. I'm starting to question myself and my ability to actually meet my goal. Am I being realistic? Maybe I've messed up my new pouch. Maybe I'm not meant to be any smaller. I keep trying to tell myself that I would be happy if I didn't lose another pound but what a crock! And why do I feel such a strong urge to eat to comfort myself? What's wrong with me? Why can't I do this? Why didn't I wait until they could rewire my head? How do I get myself back on track? How do I get back the newlywed feeling for my pouch?
