Lately my focus has been especially singular in nature, and it starts with a big ass C. In my mission to help my boyfriend fight his disease, I have been systematically destroying myself with my weapon of choice: Food.
I have spent most of the past month and a half binge eating. Hiding in the kitchen, eating in the dark after everyone has gone to bed kind of binge eating. The rest of the time I have just been careless with my consumption, with a very few days of discipline interspersed here and there. I told myself that it was just temporary, that the next day would bring reform. And while it often did through lunchtime, the end of the day would once again include eating with wild abandon.
I woke up on Monday morning telling myself that I would get a solid four days of self-control under my belt and weigh in on my normal WW weigh-in day of Friday so as not to flip out after seeing the number on the scale after a weekend of extreme eating a la Man vs. Food. But, as I climbed out of the shower, I gave myself a mental bitch slap and literally jumped on the scale to get that numerical taboo out of the way and face the damage that I had done to myself.
It was about 5 pounds worse than my worst thoughts about what the number might be. No more waiting until Friday as usual... I immediately reset my WW weigh-in day to Monday and started the work to take the weight back off. No crash diet, no limited food choices, just counting my points and stopping when they are gone. No drama, no feeling sorry for myself, and no building up to an "eat whatever you want" day over the weekend. Just some very non-dramatic realism of living the way that will bring me the healthy and slim body that I want and that feels good to me.
I cannot be as singular in focus as I have been lately. I need foci. I have to be one of them or else I will self-destruct.