In the interest of full disclosure
Saturday evening. I, um, haven't been completely honest with you. For a while. If it's any consolation, I haven't really been terribly honest with myself, either.
I've been eating everything that's not tied down and haven't worked out once since just before Halloween. To be precise, it would be just before the fires, the breaking into of my car, and the resulting theft of all of my training gear. I know that I have mentioned how rattled that whole series of events left me, but I don't think that even I understood how deeply I was effected. I don't know why something as stupid as having my car broken into bothered me so much. I can understand the whole fire raging just a few miles away thing throwing me for a loop, at least temporarily, but lots of people get their cars broken into and are just fine. For me, it marked some kind of turning point. Not a good one, either.
I've been lying to people in my life. To Chris, to my parents, to my co-workers, to Tracy. Whenever anyone asks how my training for the marathon is going, I just say something like, "well, it's sort of slowed down a lot, but I'm going to be fine." That's a lie. Slowing down would be if I were doing a bunch of shorter walks instead of the long walks. I am not doing anything at all. I know that having my entire training bag (with my beloved training jersey) stolen was a huge hit psychologically, but it shouldn't have totally knocked me off course. For a while, I thought that changing to the slower Diabetes training schedule would get me back on track, but that's clearly not the case, either.
Also on the health front, I really have been eating anything I want, generally in huge quantities. I keep trying to get it together and every morning I say "today, I'm going to do it. No more talking, just do it," and, by the end of the day, I find myself sitting in front of the TV shoving huge amounts of food into my mouth. I've even managed to be right on track until I leave work at the end of the day and still I find myself at the drive through window ordering one of everything.
Best of all of this are the results of a month of free fall. I've gained 15 pounds. Yes, 15 whole pounds and, let's hear it for the girl, a dress size. At this point, I'm lucky to fit into my 24s. I refuse to buy 26s, so everything's just tighter than Hell on me. As a matter of fact, that cute outfit I wrote about a few days ago? It arrived and was so tight on me that I looked like an overstuffed sausage casing. I just wanted to cry, but instead I ran out and got a nachos supreme at the local Mexican place and returned the outfit to Bloomie's yesterday morning. (Important fashion note: All is not lost for the Holiday Party, though, because I found this dress [which I think is pretty terrific, too, and has an empire waist, which should be OK on me, since all of my weight is carried in my stomach]. this purse, and these shoes.) While this is somewhat reassuring, the mere fact that I'm at this point, again, is just making me want to scream.
So what am I going to do? I don't know. I keep finding these moments of inspiration, but they just don't seem to last or to be strong enough to overcome my need to eat and, once I've stuffed myself like a turkey (neat Thanksgiving tie in, don't you think?), I'm definitely not in the mindset to go out and walk a few miles. I know that all of this is tied together somehow -- the out of control eating, the feeling of almost (or literally) fear when I think of getting out and getting active, and the whole self hatred vicious circle; what I don't know is how to stop it.
What will it take for me to get myself under control? Do I need to start losing my sight, which is one of the diabetic complications I'm looking at if this continue? Do I need to buy size 26s and have them get tight, too? If I knew what the magic thing was, I'd do it in a heart beat. I just don't know. And, for those out there saying to yourselves, "God, why doesn't she just do it and stop talking about it, for God's sake!" I can only say this: if you haven't been in my shoes, you can't possibly understand how daunting this is for me. I am not some loser, some flakey chick without a clue. I'm a successful person in many areas of my life, especially my profession, and I've got a good head on my shoulders, so why is this so hard for me to do?
In a related development, if the Diabetes Association people will let me, I'm going to switch from raising money for LA to raising money for the Suzuki Rock 'n' Roll Marathon instead. It's local, it's not until June, and I'm hoping that I can get myself together sufficiently in time to train properly for this one.
You know what the worst of it is? I'm so completely ashamed of myself. I can't believe how low I've fallen. This is not all that I am, and I know that with absolute certainty. The trick of it is to figure out how to get from here to where I want to be. The good news is that I'm not giving up. Not by a long shot.