I honestly don't know what came over me. Y'know they say sometimes suicides are going along jusssst peachy, and then something snaps, and the next thing they know they're popping the pills and drinking the water and they have no recollection of getting the pills or filling the glass or any of that? Well without wishing to come off all heavy on your asses, it was like that. I don't know quite what happened but as the packet of McVities Dark Chocolate Digestive Biscuits went through the scanner at my local grocery store, the beep kinda went off in my head, as if to say "Eh?? What??"
Thing is, I know I went out with the express purpose of buying something bad. It wasn't especially chocolate biscuits, just something to - and pay attention to the rhetoric of the brain here, it's telling - something to wreck all the good work.
Ahem.
Regular readers will of course see the issue here, which is that I haven't been doing the good work for weeks now. If I wreck the good work at this point, I'll be 20 stone again before I wake up and smell the chocolate biscuits.
So what was the urge about? The urge to wreck everything?
I have no idea. d said a thing recently that interested me.
"There are people who have a medical problem, and they're called alcoholics. Gluttony's not the same thing, honey," she said.
I've pondered that since she said it. Thing is, there are circles to being a Fat Fuck, just like Dante's abominable Inferno. And yes, absolutely, Gluttony's one of them. I'm more than familiar with the urge to eat not just a slice of cake, but the whole cake, just because it gives pleasure, and pleasure is...by definition...pleasurable. So yeah, I'm a Glutton, and I know that. But there's clearly, irritatingly, more to Fat Fuckery than than just Gluttony. If anyone can come up with more, I'm open to offers, but so far I've only come up with Four Circles of Fat Hell:
Gluttony - This is the simplest circle - it's essentially just an over-sensitivity to pleasure.
Comfort - We're familiar with the notion that certain foods provide comfort in times of stress. Ergo the more stress, the more comfort our systems think they require, and the more of the 'wrong' foods we eat.
Self-Sabotage - A darker circle, where we eat as an escape route - from all sorts of societal pressures, like the pressure to succeed, the pressure to have relationships, the pressure to be taken seriously in business etc...
Self-Harm - the drive to actually self-destruct, or to punish ourselves for...something.
I think, along this journey, I've touched every level at some point. Gluttony is easy - when I rave and bitch that I don't have a chocolate Sundae right here right now - that's Gluttony. Comfort eating...it's interesting, I've never particularly thought of myself as a comfort eater, but then, I've never really been under stress since this experiment began. Now, I guess you could say I'm under some stress, with business and Dad. Might account for some of the difficulties I've had in recent months trying, for instance, to re-establish my discipline levels. Self-sabotage...that's what I hit today, I think. Just the mindless desire to rebel, to go mad, to spoil things, and, presumably, to control the process of my own self-sabotage. And Self-Harm of course we touched on during my chippy binge of a few weeks ago.
Anyhow...
I actually stood there in Tescos, with the biscuits in my hand, and saw my future if I ate them. Sneaky treats, leading to bigger and bigger treats, leading to a woooooooorld of treats...and before I'd know it, I'd have slipped all the way back down to Fat Fuck Hell, and be the person I was before all this began - eating madly and being surprised at my heart giving up the ghost.
So I took them home and put them in the fridge. Then, for the first time in weeks, I made the time and got on the bike.
It was rather startled to see me. I did an hour on it, which I think surprised it even more. And then I promised it an hour every day. It gave a sardonic "Yeah, we'll see, mate" handlebar-tilt and groaned slightly as I got off it.
The road to Hell may be paved with chocolate biscuits, but if Meat Loaf taught me anything when I was a child, it's that the way back out is on the seat of a bike.
Blood today was 6.5. This is too damned high for my liking as well. Let's get back under control, dammit!
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