Had to leave town because of Hurricane Irma. Could not cook my own food in Chicago. Then, came back and discovered the loveliness of eggnog martinis and double espressos lattes.
But, turns out, coffee, all coffee, even just a little of the stuff, burns my stomach.
But, yeah, quitting it is difficult. So, that’s fun. Caffeine, you’re a cruel monster.
Then, after learning white wine is gross, and so are mimosas, and they give me cottonmouth, I caught what appeared to be the plague. A lot of Florida, and possibly more of the country, got this super nasty bug, and, for a little while, I did not feel like eating anything other than liquid.
So, I got good at protein shakes. Like, I made some mean drinks—if I may toot my own horn on my own blog.
But, after all that, after I came back to coffee after quitting and discovered I like cappuccinos more than even lattes: I had a horrible reality check.
I’d gained ten pounds.
Now, for some of you, that might not sound like a lot. And, really, it’s not. But, I don’t know if you’ve read my most personal post ever, but the idea of gaining even a little weight has huge issues for me.
Once fat, always fat.
Once overweight, always worried.
Fuck, I gave up sugar and bread—but do you think I liked doing that? I mean, now, sugar tastes weird, but that does not mean all foods I used to like I can’t recall how much I liked them. I’m from Chicago, for Christ’s sake—of course I miss pizza.
But, I made my choice to be healthy. I MADE MY CHOICE. And, because I continue to share myself with you, in my personal thoughts and moments, I’m admitting I’m scared, reader. I’ve upped the weights I lift and increased the run-to-walk ratio for my daily exercise. I’m trying as hard as I can to push it back down—but the number resolutely holds.
I will hammer at it, but the damn scale’s readings stare at me in my freaking dreams. This is, again, why I promote body positivity. I know, I understand, what I am feeling are scars from being fat—opened a crack. Those insults and dirty stares, they echo. Replay in the mind when the weight scale flows upward to anything above what it was.
It’s a minor voice, sure, but, hey, again: once fat, always fat. That’s not a saying said glibly.
And, I fear it is the coffee. I think that is the cause of the problem, and it burns my stomach, so I should stop anyhow. But, well, I wanted to have one thing new that was mine. Some little thing that makes my diet not just the recipes I’ve learned to make. Something ritualistic I could do with others.
I mean, freaking hell, it’s only a cup of coffee.
But, life isn’t fair, huh? I’m having my first world problems again, I know. But, weight loss is not a singular win. It is a thousand actions and choices and rules and rationales, and it as a battle lasts past the point of the scale satisfying you.
It is the rest of your life.
People at this stage in the game, I’m there with you. I’m fighting still, even when people who look at me assume I don’t need to anymore. You’re still not alone.
We must take control of our bodies every day.
Because it’s still a fight worth having.
But, fuck, it’s not always easy. I really hope I can sort this out soon.