May 29th, 2012: It’s a hard pill to swallow when you’re able to gain 6 and only lose one. But, I’ve got to look on the bright side, again, and tell myself that at least I didn’t gain, again. I’m 266 today.
I’ll give a little insight into what it’s like to have an unplanned excursion from the program. In a nuclear power plant, a power excursion occurs when too many atoms are splitting and the power output rises uncontrolled, which can result in the meltdown of the reactor core, or at least some major damage to it – ever hear of Three-Mile Island or Fukushima Daiichi? A food excursion metaphorically follows the same process and an analogy can be affixed between the two types of excursions.
This recent meltdown started with me planting my own seed that I was missing out on too much in life by being on the program 24/7. I watched my in-laws enjoying their grilled hamburgers and hotdogs and ribs and steaks. I watched them fill up paper plates with potato salad, pasta salad, stuffed jalapeno’s, and potato chips. I coveted large hunks of chocolate cake cut into squares and put on smaller paper plates.
And then I nurtured the original conception with new and incorrect thoughts that I wasn’t eating enough everyday because otherwise I wouldn’t be having these intense cravings. I mean, after all, I hadn’t had them prior to giving up my Orowheat English Muffin or my chocolate chip muffins.
Then I moved on to forgetting how I dug this hole in the first place. I lied to myself and re-sold the idea to myself that I could just have one treat not called out on the program and then stop for the day. It would be a mini, unplanned, yet controllable excursion. And I forgot that the same thing they say about meth is the same thing you can say about sugar and fat when you’re a food addict: “not even once”.
We departed my in-laws’ house before the excursion because by this point I had made the decision that I would never again allow anyone to witness me eat the same way everyone else was eating. A quick stop by Alberston’s produced a Ribeye steak, and a sirloin steak, both for me (Juliana had eaten at her parents), a package of frozen tator-tots, and a bag of broccoli. So far this was, you know, “healthy stuff”, but we must not forget that calories are calories, and this was already going to soar way above and beyond what the program allows. For dessert, I purchased one pint of Ben and Jerry’s Karamel Sutra – the kind with that rich and smooth caramel core. It was around 6pm.
By 8pm, I had eaten everything I had purchased at Albertson’s, but just like an uncontrolled nuclear reaction (think of the ping-pong ball/mousetrap example), the chaos in my brain from the neurons (instead of splitting atoms) firing every which way but loose upstairs in my noodle packet had me back at Albertson’s standing in line with a dozen donuts, a buttercream birthday cake (even though it was nobody’s birthday), and a package of some kind of weird pastry/scone/cookie things.
Back at home I was like a ravenous grizzly bear at the garbage dump in West Yellowstone after being more or less asleep all winter. And I got out-of-control even further after that. By that night at 10:30 pm, I was so stuffed I could barely move, and it even felt slightly hard to breathe. I had heartburn, I didn’t sleep well, and consequently I was way fatigued the next day.
Then there was that first day back – and damage control. The temptation is razor sharp. It is so hard to come back from that. There must be some statistics here, regarding coming back to diet after a cheat day, and I doubt they were in my favor. I had to consciously avoid pushing the fuel rods right back down into the core, melted down and ruined or not.
Then the second day there was a dull ache, and a little bit of sadness not just about what I’d done, but also what I was missing. I am reminded as I sift through the damages about the war that I’m fighting.
May 29th, 2020: There is nothing funny at all about how quickly your mind can accelerate from mild discomfort to an all-out panic attack.
The manifestations of those attacks I sometimes think were in my explosive eating events. In hindsight, I can compare explosive temper tantrums I’ve had to those huge and unplanned binges, and it scares the shit out of me. Don’t know if you remember the pancake story? Same thing seems to happen to me when I go off the rails with food. It really can’t even be once.
And so I learned that this is the prevention of the mousetrap/nuclear excursion binge – not even once. I’m hoping that this isn’t the end all-be all of my relationship with food, such as probably will be for alcohol and tobacco. Obviously, you can’t quit eating like you can quit drinking or chewing or smoking, but you can build a program for yourself that requires you to never stray from it if you want results.
I want results, so I can’t stray. Promising that I won’t stray is like getting your spouse’s name tattooed onto your arm, it’s bad juju, so I won’t make promises in ink. The program seems to offer the surest covenant that I’ve ever experienced, but damn, it requires complete and total purchase – mental, physical, and emotional. I give, it gives back. The transaction is pure.
But what happens when I don’t give my share? What happens if I weaken? I’m human and there is no guarantee my pledge to myself won’t become diluted or forgotten. As you’ll see in Part II of the Fat Ass No More story, it did happen. I have recovered stronger than ever, and for probably at least 3 years now I’ve more or less abided by the program, hopping back on it 100% on November 8th, 2019. But there is always a slippery slope, and ultimately I’m going to have to become an expert at stopping the bleeding if I expect to continue to follow this shepherd I call “The Program”.
