How (Sheila) Got Her Groove Back

After several months of staying stagnant, weight-wise, I've gotten things moving again. For some reason, I never really got myself back together after my mom passed away (the week after which I did allow for much "comfort" food, which somehow meant "breakfast" for just about every meal-- that is, when I could actually eat anything at all).

It's no coincidence that the 5 days prior to that I started my new job and a whole new routine. While my prior California habits still worked great when I had all the time in the world to shop elsewhere from my small neighborhood grocer, cook and wander around enjoying the city on foot (still a weekend enjoyment), I never really transitioned to what has developed into a completely different lifestyle. If something that was previously so successful suddenly doesn't work, you add to it, right?! (yes, the Analyst in me laughs especially hard at that one) The more restrictions and rules I packed on, the more obsessed and crazy I became trying to keep up without going overboard. I'd adapted every aspect of my life except the one remaining proverbial square peg.

So, here was my (very shocking for me) new rule a few weeks ago--- no rules!! Yep, I ate absolutely anything I wanted if I felt it would truly satisfy, didn't worry about working out (although of course still did, but purely for enjoyment), and just... lived. If you know me even in the slightest, you know that's just not me.

Little did I know just how much good would come of that. It really gave me a chance to evaluate what works for me here in my drastically-overhauled lifestyle. I made huge changes to everything else in coming here, yet somehow expected myself to live up to standards I'd set when I worked in the office much less (and mere minutes from home, at that, when not working from home) and had time at the end of the day to fit in things like golfing and leisurely 4-mile walks with a friend to eat at one of the two restaurants in town where I could eat within our tastes and my personal limits. And as much time as I spent out, it was typically at a bar where I'd be sticking to club soda (which I still typically do at bars, but that's a choice thing), especially where the activities included remembering lyrics. Actual meals out were somewhat rare, beyond the aforementioned.

People don't really cook much in Manhattan. I thought it was weird before I moved here, but I've become one of "them". It's something I like to do on weekends, but that's about it. And I don't always have time, even then. I do typically make a couple of things to sustain me for the week, but to expect a lack of amazing restaurant meals, when surrounded by anything and everything, is just silly.

Having a history (shocker, I know) of battling both anorexia and then the weight issues that ensued post-accident and the ups-and-downs of health issues afterward, weight is a touchy subject for me and has been since the beanpole of my youth tried to leave me in my teens. It's hard for me to flip the switch into "losing" mode without going completely to "not eating" mode. I've been really amazingly good about it in recent years, but it's a constant struggle. So, as I sat here plotting out daily charts and graphs (you think I'm kidding) of nutritional input and weighing heavily each choice, beating myself up for mercilessly occasional splurges, I got a glimpse of myself and recognized that small little voice that had been squelched for so long that was struggling to get out-- The one that was telling me that if "less" was good then "less than that" is even better. It's the voice of danger I often find hard to recognize until I'm doing things like passing out hiking (with, thankfully, someone there to catch me as I went unconscious and head-first down the mountain).

Well, all those years spent with that devil on my shoulder have apparently made me wiser and more aware. While I've always had a very good relationship knowing what my body was doing (even if it wasn't always what I wanted it to do), I've not always been as good at listening, or rather NOT listening, to that little voice. I'd keep it at bay, but I do recognize that, much like a recovered alcoholic, it likely won't ever go away entirely.

So, I'm back on track. I've changed things up a bit to fit better with my NY on-the-go lifestyle. I've removed a LOT of rows from the spreadsheet (come on, you didn't think I'd give that up entirely, did you?) and even removed one day entirely just to not think out about things a day out of the week. It's funny how I essentially stick to how I'd eat normally, but somehow opened up to tremendous variety and combinations I hadn't thought of from my recent, stagnant rut. I also understand why people eat dinner so late here.

And, after essentially maintaining the past few months, I lost 3 pounds.

[EDIT: Yes, it has been pointed out to me that the fact I was able to completely maintain, rather than gain, is a feat unto itself. Yeah, yeah, whatever ;) ]