What an arse I am. I seem to shoot myself in the foot all the time. I’ve been trying (half my life) to lose weight and eat healthier, not just to look better but also to feel better. I try new ideas, plans etc. but it is my own short term desires which fuck me up. How is that? What kind of stupid death wish, shit life do I think I deserve? Not a day goes by without something or someone making me feel shit (before you all start shouting, I know, no-one else can make me do anything, it is my own fucking brain screwing with me), and how I deal with is to make myself feel better with food or stuff. Sometimes, something or someone doesn’t even have to do anything its just my fucking brain telling me I deserve this or that. Take yesterday…
I was feeling a bit tired and run down from the week and decided to take Friday as a day off to recuperate. I still had to get up early as my husband has to help me put on my adorable compression stockings and help fasten my bra (I’ve got a dodgy shoulder). I had to pick up a parcel from the post-office so just faffed around until after 9:00am to let the traffic die down. I also needed to pick up a few things from the shops. Whilst waiting for 9:00 I had a hot lemon, ACV, ginger and honey drink (recently I’ve been trying to have this in the morning as I’ve heard its good for you); I was feeling relatively righteous. 9:00am came and I headed of out; I would have breakfast/lunch on my return. I picked up my parcel and headed to Asda, I needed some fruit juice and I wanted to look for a cheap bread bin.
Once at Asda I had a quick look round the ladies clothes (as always) and managed to pick up a nice black and white stripey T-shirt, a bargain at £8. The bread bin was OK, but I wasn’t too keen so I left it and went back to look for juice. I also picked up some butter as I was planning to bake a banana cake with the banana’s that were rotting on my counter back at home. Then I thought, “what can I have for breakfast”? That’s when my mind went into overdrive…“toast, bacon, eggs, muffins, bagels…”. It was like I’d been taken over by someone else; I was having a day off so it seemed only fair this day off extended to what I was eating…therefore I didn’t have to eat nutritionally, sensible food I could have whatever my heart desired. My brain ran through my list of favourites in a millisecond and settled on bread products…I absolutely love bread, but what kind? Baguette, crusty white loaf, bagels… I’d decided I’d have Boursin with black pepper on a crusty baguette and headed to the cheese aisle, but horror of horrors, there was no Boursin. Again, my brain ran through list of favourites but this time nothing stood out…so I thought “head for the bread aisle, something with jump out at you”.
At the bread aisle I just couldn’t think, everything looked appealing, so I thought “what have I not had in ages”? Scottish plain bread! Unfortunately, they don’t have any in Asda but they do have a close substitute, an Irish Batch. That would do just the job; toasted with lashings of butter and bovril or as a sandwich with lashings of butter, cheese, bovril and garlic salt (I opted for the sandwich). Now this is when my brain well and truly fucked me over…“if you’re having this, you may as well have some of your favourite Aero chocolate” – not the minty or orange one, just the chocolate one, its like gold dust these days. You’re right, I said and off I went to the chocolate aisle. Now, I could have picked up one big bar and that would have been a bit naughty, but no, I picked up two. What was my fucking brain thinking…or had it given up thinking entirely. Was there another person living inside of me controlling my brain? I don’t know anymore…all I know is I got home and made a cheese, bovril and garlic salt sandwich (it was delicious) and washed it down with a milky coffee and half a bar of Aero.
About an hour later the backlash started, my body was punishing me and my feeble brain. The aches and pains, the skin crawling sensation, restless legs, every molecule of my being felt shoogly, I felt headachey, my muscles ached; I felt ruddy awful. I ended up having to lie down, but even then I still felt like shit. The rest of the day was a washout, it would take a couple of hours and a couple of pain killers to recover. This is what happens when I do not keep control of my brain and remind myself that my lipoedema and fibromyalgia are real and the consequences of eating without thinking are debilitating. Was it worth it. NO! Will I do it again? probably…YES. That’s why I am an arse!!