Getting on a diet seems something that you only need to do when you’re well, fat. Refraining from eating when you already look good attracts all kinds of reactions, the most frequent of them being ‘but you don’t have to lose weight’. Oh, well…
For the past month I have been watching carefully what I eat, mostly counting calories and making sure I don’t go over 1,200. I’m by no means fat, not even chubby, and have never been. I only want to lose about 10 lbs, mostly because I am used with a certain image of me and looking a bit plumper than seven years ago is not something I like. I already managed to lose about 6 lbs, so in a couple of weeks I’ll be there. There meaning I’ll have the same weight at 30 as I had when I was 20. Not looking good in S-size jeans will be a thing of the past.
I am not obsessed with body image, even though this is not what it may transpire from the lines above. A constant fear of getting ill is what makes me want to preserve roughly the same weight at all times. This and the fact that I am a clothing hoarder and I still own things I wore in high-school. Not being able to fit in them and look the same as I did back then makes me feel like I lost something on the way, that my life has somehow took a turn for the worse. Couple this with more than one case of tragic ending of beloved people in my life who could have been reading my lackluster blog post right now had they known how to take care of themselves and you’ve got a good outline of my fixation with my weight.
The next step is to pick up some form of physical exercise. Not something that I’m particular fond of, but I guess a little bit of running or yoga is better for my health than rotting on the couch or at the desk all day long. My organic fear of anything related to doctors and hospitals is another thing that keeps me going with the plan. As someone whose sense of futility is inscribed in her genetic code, I couldn’t cope with that. I am not a fighter, and being is a situation where I would have to fight for my life with doctors, surgeries, pills and all that shit would bring me so many reasons to end it quick and clean. Too tempting, so I’m not gonna risk it.
I wrote this because I’m hungry and I cannot seem to be able to stop thinking or talking about food these days. The very nice neighbours across the hall had a party last night and brought over some delicious home-cooked Indian food. I tasted some of it last night, as it was so tempting and couldn’t resist, and the rest is now sitting in the fridge begging for attention. I’m going to eat the leftovers for lunch instead of the regular bulgur salad with vegetables which has become the staple lunch in our home for the past month. Wonderful spicy rice, here I come. (Trying to make the guilt go away is so hard when dieting, though.)