In the days after surgery, I told my sister that I was looking forward to the surgically imposed limits and losing the need to obsess over my weight loss because there's no possible chance I'll gain weight on such a tiny diet. I told her I didn't want to look at the scale anymore. At least, I didn't want to look at it every day.
I was at peace with the limitations. I didn't want to think about food anymore. As far as my stomach goes, I wanted to set it and forget it.
I'm learning that it's not that easy. I'm losing weight again after a 3-week stall. My body was shrinking, but the scale was staying the same. After losing 30 lbs in just a matter of weeks, my body was all, "Hey! Don't take these pounds off of me! I need to catch up! You're starving; I'mma hang on to this for as long as I can!"
And I was all, "It's okay, body, you'll get fed."
And my body was all, "I don't believe you."
But while I was going through the stall, I couldn't help but check that scale every day just to be able to slide the counterweight to the left. I don't want to obsess over how much weight I'm losing each day; I'm not that fucked up. I was just curious.
My appetite and cravings are coming back. It might have something to do with PMS, or it could just be in my nature. What's good is that I can't eat as much as I used to. What's bad - or at least inconvenient - is that I can't order out for a quick bite, or go out to eat alone without doing some serious thinking about how pointless it is.
I wanted pad Thai the other night, and I was thisclose to ordering when I finally said "fuck it" and scrambled an egg. It's not worth it. I can eat the chicken and the tofu, but I'd only be able to slurp down maybe two noodles. They'd probably get stuck or make me sleepy....it just wasn't worth the effort or the waste.
I can't go out of my way for carbs. Pasta, rice, potatoes just blow up in my stomach and take up room for vital protein. I love them, but they do nothing for me. I have to keep conscious of my limitations, as much as I love them.
The other day at lunch I had some lentil soup and splurged for some gluten free tortilla chips as a side. After my soup, I could only eat 2 chips before I started to get that sludgy stomach feeling. I told my friend Lyzz to food-check me if she ever saw me buying chips again. I normally don't abide food-checkers, but in this case it's good to have someone be like, "Hey, you don't like those, remember?"
So now comes the time to make conscious food boundaries, to know my limits and enforce them. Sure, the surgery helps me understand that bad food sucks, but I still have to be the policeman.
So there's that,