Step One

I've been doing a lot of reading this week, mainly due to a blog I've stumbled across by a woman who I feel so connected to, it borderlines on obsession.  Her name is Mary, and you can find her blog at www.asmallloss.com.  Her honesty is ruthless and it leads to the most amazing insight, both for her and to me.  I was so profoundly affected and moved by the most recent blog entry that I was compelled to go back to day one, and am slowly working my way through the past two years of her journey.  She has brought me to tears numerous times already, and I've still got almost a year to go.

The best part: she's a runner.  She knows the joy of pounding pavement in a way that a non-runner will never understand.  Even more, she knows what being an overweight woman and FINDING that joy feels like.

Consequently, I have laced up my worn-out Asics and hit the road/track three times this week; not running, but at least walking.  Tuesday, I did a mile and a half along two hilly, but shady residential streets in my sleepy little mountain town. Wednesday, I did two miles on the track at the Jr. High, and Thursday, I walked along our equivalent of Main Street, which is kind of a blend of both.  Not as hilly as Tuesday, but more shade than the track, and I did about two and a half miles.  I have to say, I was feeling pretty good about it, and it felt SO good to be back out there.

Then Friday came.

Mind you, I had planned for this.

A couple of weeks ago, my in-laws had told us to 'save the date', because they had something special planned to celebrate our birthdays (Keith's is the last of April, and mine is the last of May).  The 'something' turned out to be a military tattoo (Scottish fife/pipe and drum bands performing with military precision....google "Edinburgh Tattoo" and you'll get the idea), which we would BOTH have enjoyed tremendously, but it got cancelled earlier in the day, so they decided to take us out to eat instead. We chose a nice restaurant in town, and set out.

I started out good....well....I started out with good intentions. I felt good about the grilled shrimp and veggie skewers and side salad I chose.  But then the rolls got to the table (I had two), then the appetizer (I had probably a third of a plate of nachos being shared by four people). After the main entree, my chocoholic husband ordered the most GINORMOUS piece of peanut butter pie, drenched in chocolate sauce I've ever seen...literally. While we were waiting on that, I noticed he had not eaten his baked apples, so I dug in to those, and ate about half before the pie came.

My mother in law took about a third, and Keith and I shared what was left.  I was only going to take a bite, I don't even LIKE peanut butter pie.  But I ended up eating as much, if not more, than Keith did.  Afterwards, I felt sick.  Really sick. After sticking basically to a primal diet, my system is nowhere near able to process that much sugar, and I think I sent myself into insulin shock.  I will say that my obsessive/compulsive eating has never wandered into binge/purge territory, but I came horribly close last night.  All I could think about was getting that mess OUT of my system.

Then I thought....I really deserve to suffer through this.  I really hope that I remember how disgusting I feel right now.  I know that I will never, ever look at peanut butter pie the same. Ever.

Lesson learned, I guess.  Today is a new day.  And I intend to make the most of it.