Vacationing in Chicago was like being in a different world, as a different person. Every time I left the hotel I was facing my reflection in the gold elevator doors. It dawned on me that everyone around me couldn’t see the 258 pounds I used to weigh. They didn’t know I used to wear a size 24. It made me feel like a brand new person, like I could own my new identity for the first time – I was the only person for miles who knew I’d once been grossly overweight.
I ate like there was no tomorrow, but I did make some healthy choices. I got more exercise than most people get in a lifetime. I walked everywhere. I felt good, light, free. And then I had to come home.
Over the course of two days I interviewed for a job, returned to work, got hired for a new job, and quit my job. I start my new position on Tuesday. My natural instinct when something good like that happens is to celebrate with food. It didn’t help that I was having a hard time getting back to my healthy routine after vacation. Since Tuesday, I’ve done nothing but eat poorly. Sure, I’ve had some salads, fruits, and vegetables, but I’ve had cookies, brownies, and peanut butter. I’ve been eating delicious snacks and desserts even though I’m not hungry.
I stepped on the scale this morning, and even though I was horrified by the numbers, I can’t stop. In a way I don’t want to stop, not yet. Maybe after a year I deserve a couple weeks of eating whatever I want. But am I willing to pay the price? I don’t know. I know there has to be an end, and I know if I don’t stop I won’t be able to stop.
