At the end of this month it will have been six months through my year of restrictions and I would say that I have, honestly, managed to keep it together for maybe four months but am not in any way able to claim to have been sticking to my self-imposed rules for the six months. I think part of the problem is that I am an all-or-nothing type of gal.
I have stated this before but it tends to be something that I can’t avoid. I am not a fan of in-betweens, compromises, half-assed solutions, or the same shit every day. So I get going all great-guns, get excited and jump on my challenge and go ‘THAT IS IT I AM NEVER GOING TO LET SUGAR/DAIRY/COFFEE/ANYTHING GOOD PASS MY LIPS AGAIN DAMNIT. HEAR ME WORLD. THIS IS NOT A DRILL’.
And I convince myself that it is the best thing I can be doing (I’m very persuasive and also easily convinced by a smooth talker – the perfect combination to be lead astray by my-self) and tell anyone who will listen about why I’m doing, why it’s the best thing I can be doing ‘It’s not fucking rocket science man – it IS the right thing to do you know?’ and three months later and SO FUCKING BORED with the sound of my own proselytizing that I will catch and kill an Easter bunny just for his stash. And then the wheels are off baby – because if I’m going off the rails it better be worth it right?
So I am eating dairy, the occasional salad (ooooh yeah raw greens mmm), crunchy scratchy, apples – you name it – I’m a bad bitch rebel with no limits. yeah. And what it comes down to is that I did start the year off doing this for the right reasons, and I felt better – you remember I had more energy? and felt good pretty much every day and all of that stuff.
The seriously de-motivating bit is the complete lack of change in my skin, still red-faced and flakey, raw and prone to breakouts (and no weight loss whatsoever but I am trying not to think about that and I’m on the downhill to 40 so apparently that happens). Doesn’t seem fair really. It’s enough to drive a grrl back to drink.
Interestingly, aside from Gluten which I will never eat knowingly again, Alcohol is the only other one that I haven’t touched. That is becoming a personal point of pride. And actually – once you get past the first 7 days it ain’t no big thang. I am looking forward to my new year Cider date with Yas, and a good catch up over a glass of red (I might be salivating a teeny tiny bit) with my grrls one night, but I don’t miss hangovers, I don’t miss the anxiety from wondering if calling my sisters bosses wife a racist at dinner went too far (it did but she was and I’m not sorry) and I know that if I had kept the wine up I wouldn’t even have managed the 3.5 months of sugar-free-ness because hangovers.
I haven’t written for four days because I got my period. TMI. Whatevers you can handle it. But the reason I bring it up is because for the first part of the year I haven’t noticed them as big deals, I might be a bitch for a couple of days but I don’t remember particularly (you’d have to ask the GD and the little Dutchmen if that’s accurate of course). However this time though I had a low week.
A whole week of second-guessing myself, feeling like a whale, hatin’ on my legs, I was grumpier than the grumpy Dutchman (and that’s a feat) and I have had terrible bloating and pain since friday. Over-sharing too. That must be a side effect. And do you eat everything in sight when you are PMS-ing? I do. It’s like I’m loading up in order to, um, shed the excess. I am sure it was better without the sugar and coffee. I am sure I was nicer to my boys. And I know that I haven’t felt so unsure of myself in months. Maybe since last year.
So what to do about it? I don’t fucking know. I’m still ruminating on it. I’ll get back you when I have a plan.