Being Strong, Being Weak, Being Me.

A little kingdom I possess, where thoughts and feelings dwell;

And very hard the task I find of governing it well.  

~ Louisa May Alcott

Hmmmm. Today has been a good-ish day in which my strength has pleased me, and my weakness has me wanting to punch myself.

Do you have to be strong all the time you aim to lose weight? I think you do. You have to have such resolve and determination, don't you? You have to get your head round the fact that you are going to do something which will involve denial. Some foods have to be avoided like the plague. Even with my 'all things in moderation' plan, I KNOW I cannot buy some things or have them in the house. If you are trying to lose weight you have to know that it will involve having a discussion with yourself every time you want to open your gob to munch something. You also have to plan and be prepared...and that means we are perpetually conscious of our eating. It's no way to live really, is it? Like I wrote yesterday, I want to return to the days when I NEVER thought about the food I was eating...and yet my weight remained fine and without thinking about it, I was active enough to burn off the calories ingested. It just happened and I remained a slim woman.

Now is now however and the goalposts have moved. I am fat now and it's up to me to do something about it..if I want to. I have a choice. No one is forcing me to address issues, although my own feeling is my poor old heart shouldn't have to pump so hard to keep me going. I mentioned in another post that I am carrying the (extra) weight of a small sofa on my back.

So today I had a hospital appointment. I have no car so how was I going to get there? Well, I could walk up the hill near my home, come out on to the main road and wait for a bus which would take me to within twenty yards of the front entrance of the hospital or I could walk the two/three miles. Stupidly, I found myself running late..I had two phone calls just as I was about to leave the house, so I decided I'd get the bus there. I didn't want to arrive all hot and bothered and flustered because I'd had to rush. I still had a steep hill walk from my house to the bus stop. I saw the vascular surgeon at the hospital who examined me then told me he'd arrange for a scan of my lower legs - so that will be another appointment in the near future. (I keep getting phlebitis which is SO painful and it's not responding to treatment or antibiotics.) I walked out of the hospital and decided I wasn't going to wait for a bus home - I'd walk it. My legs were stinging..but what's new. They sting every day, but I want to walk. I actually LIKE walking. It makes me feel good. I fear being incapacitated.

It was a pleasant afternoon and I'd bought myself a bottle of water, which I swigged at intervals. It was all uphill on the way home, apart from the last little bit which is of course down the steep hill to my front door, but I enjoyed being out in the fresh air and I know walking is good for my circulation. I stopped half way and took a bit of a detour to the supermarket. I knew we were running low on milk and bread and a few other bits and pieces so I did some food shopping and packed my purchases into two plastic bags...being careful to distribute the items evenly, according to weight.  I then walked the last mile and a bit carrying two fairly heavy bags...all uphill apart from the downward slope to my house at journeys end. I'd been walking at a steady pace for an hour. A good work-out, with weights! :)

I felt tired when I got in, but was glad I incorporated a good walk into my day. I made myself a mug of tea (there is nothing like tea when you are parched and tired imo!) and I realised I'd worked up an appetite, so I made myself a sardine sandwich and had a small salad to go with it. I love fish.. Oh, I also weighed myself this morning, and although I'd gained five pounds in the week, I'd shed two of them...so I was able to record a three pound gain rather than a five pound one! It was all good...

Yes, it was, until I heard the chimes of the ice cream van outside.

I rarely buy ice cream. I can live without it, but son, just in from work dashed out to the van, wanting an ice lolly after his tiring day at the garage. He asked me as he rushed by..."Want an ice cream Mum?" I should have said no, but I didn't. I quite like that soft, runny, swirled ice cream from the van. Son being generous bought me a double cone...with a chocolate flake in each mound of ice cream. My heart sank when he offered it to me. All my exercise undone...but it looked soooooooo good.

Oh woe is me. What does one do? Here are the choices

A) Chuck it in the bin  B) Throw it in the sink  C) Flush it down the loo  or  D) Eat it?

I did of course choose option  D.

I am weak. End of. No excuses. I really should punch myself. It looked good, and by golly, it tasted good...right down to the last bite of the crispy cornet. I enjoyed it.

OK, so just like the toast and honey yesterday, I should have shown some restraint. I really don't fight my urges...because I don't often have strong urges..but two days running I have not put up a fight. I have fallen at the first hurdle. In fact..I didn't even attempt to jump it.

I have got to feel 'deprived' I think...in a good way. My 'deprived' will mean I have chosen what I will and won't eat. I shan't rule out ice cream completely, but next time I have one...which could be months from now....it will be a considered  choice and not a thoughtless, mad whim.