Stepped off the curb. Again.

It all started innocently enough with Christmas Eve dinner. Larry and I went out to an Italian restaurant where I planned to just eat a normal meal and that's it. No drinking, no dessert. While waiting for my beloved at the bar I ended up having a delightful glass of Rose at the suggestion of Joe, Centro’s most excellent barkeep. It was Christmas Eve, I was going to have a beautiful dinner with my husband so why not have a glass of wine at the bar. Then dear Joe poured me some of this incredible Blood Orange liqueur and after a few sips of that my judgment left the building. Once we sat down to dinner we ordered a bunch of appetizers and I had an incredible lobster risotto. We're still OK as far as I'm concerned and then they pull out the dessert menu. Homemade Baba Au Rhum? I'm not leaving without eating that. So now I'm officially off the reservation and the the bag of Lindt truffles that I had in the pantry at home is now fair game. Because I didn't have enough to eat at the restaurant. But mostly because they were there and because I could. Thursday was a lazy day and we had pasta and salad for dinner. By Saturday when I put on my jeans they were tight. My first thought was "3 days being off the program and already I’m gaining weight?" I was so disgusted and I felt such a loss of control—not about my eating but about my body. Why would my pants be tight from one day of overeating? I felt like hurling myself out a window and I could feel myself getting into that old familiar rage. How could I be on a 10 week cleanse and then have one day of overeating impact my body that much?. OK I wasn’t a model citizen on Thursday and Friday but I ate pretty normally. Was it the half a bag of popcorn at the movies on Thursday? Was it the two pieces of millet toast with butter on Friday? I mean really—is the margin for error that small?


It’s that feeling of constriction that I simply cannot tolerate—of having to watch every single morsel that I eat. I no longer have any interest in living that vigilant of a life. I did at one time, but at this point I’ve got other things I want to spend my time on. So here I am busting out of my jeans and wanting to scream my head off until I have no voice because I am so livid. The root of this monstrous emotion? Powerlessness. That's it in one word Just the thought that I do not have control over my own body is enough to make me want to kill. And what happens when those kinds of feelings come up? I overeat and the more I overeat the worse the situation gets.

So here was my week: Saturday—discovered that in going off my program for three days I already started to gain weight which made Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday “all you can eat” days. So now I’ve gained more weight and even fewer of my clothes fit me. I guess I’m not the only one starting the New Year this way and it certainly wouldn’t be the first time. Honestly, I just want to get on with my life and not have to worry about any of this. It’s so tedious and it’s something that I used to deal with on a daily basis for years. I’m tired, tired, tired of this ride and I want to get off. Right now.

It seems like my options are:

1. Start drinking again. Then I won’t care that nothing fits me.
2. Wear skirts with elastic waist bands. Then I’ll forget that nothing fits me.
3. Buy new clothes in a bigger size. Then everything will fit me.
4. Stop giving a shit. Then it won’t matter what does or does not fit me.

“Monty, I’d like what’s behind door #4 please.”
And Monty, I really really mean that.