I swear it is the enemy! It sits in the kitchen and calls my name. It cries my name softly and promises to fix my ever dilemma. It shouts my name when I don't come instantly.
I am sad, it is there with waiting arms. I am bored, it promises excitement. I am alone, it keeps me company. I am mad, it is my crusader. It is my closest friend, and my worst enemy.
I have yet to understand fully why I can't control it. I start my day with the utmost in determination. I make my plan and I intend to follow through. I pass through our home, and it is at every pass. I know in my rational mind, that food is not the answer for anything other than true hunger, but in the moment I can't connect with rational thought. I listen to the food's subtle cry of deception.
I know that in the first few months of my WLJ, I was able to stifle it's cries. I shut it in a box and stowed it somewhere. Then the plateau hit. My determination was there for months and months. I didn't let it out of the box. I didn't even look for the box. Then, nine months into my plateau, I let it out again. I rationalized it with the fact that I could eat more of what I wanted and stay the same, or I could do it all "Right" which wasn't as much fun and stay the same weight.
Here I am another 7 months later as almost the exact same weight. I play with 5 pounds up and five pounds down. I just can't seem to find the box to incarcerate it again. So many days I don't know that I am even looking for the box.
I have said so many time that I would cut off a limb to weight less than 150 and yet.... I can't even control my hand that is stuff my face. I must not really want it bad enough.
I do want it, but the question is am I willing to find the box, use the box, and destroy the box. Food is not my answer to life's problems. Food solves nothing. I know that I have some deep seated issues related to food and weight, and I keep wading through them . I think it is evident that I have dealt with enough.
I am off to hunt for my box.