Well look at me, sashaying into day three of my latest new beginning with a smile on my face. I’m officially feeling one hundred percent in control of my food plan, dare I even say enjoying it? I’ve got to be honest, going back to Weight Watchers feels a bit like pulling on a pair of my oldest most comfortable slippers, you know? It’s familiar, even though it’s different.
It’s simple. I prefer points over calories. Don’t get me wrong, spending a few months diligently counting every calorie – ok *looks sheepish* you got me, maybe not every calorie – has been a really valuable exercise, in that even though some foods don’t contain points I have a heightened awareness of what’s in stuff. Just because they have a zero points value doesn’t mean my arse will shrink at warp speed if I throw portion control to the wind. I’m not actually eating air, and I get that now. That was the My Fitness Pal lesson, and it needed to be learned.
Wednesday was my first proper day on the new flexi plan, and if it hadn’t been for that pesky gin advent calendar seducing me as I walked past with the promise of chocolate and cherry gin behind door number twelve I would’ve actually carried some of Wednesday’s points over to Thursday. For a girl who many moons ago mastered the technique of wringing every single food opportunity out of every single day, that feels more than a tiny bit impressive. I had points left but I wasn’t bothered about going to find something to spend them on. The end.
Well, except for the miniature gin, as things worked out. But I am starting today with two points carried over from yesterday…just sayin’.
However. Y’all know as well as I do that I’ve been here before. Too many times to count, right? I’ve got fifty fucking years’ experience of being fat and I’m about as far from being an expert on weight-loss as it’s possible to get. What I do know, is that the first few days of a new beginning go one of two ways. Either, the fire in my belly will carry me along until the new regime is established and the Asshole voice doesn’t even try to de-rail me, or he’ll be at my heels and in my head from one minute after midnight on day one.
This time I’m basking in his absolute radio silence. It feels different from the last few new beginnings. It’s like someone’s kidnapped him. He didn’t try and talk me into a mince pie when they were freely available in the office. The box of Thornton’s chocolates I brought home earlier this week to give to a friend are sitting untouched on the kitchen table and he hasn’t done anything twattish like circulate a memo round my head every five minutes suggesting I could open them for myself and buy her another box later.
I’m making the most of this honeymoon period and I’m going to use it as an opportunity to settle into my new food plan. We’re within spitting distance of Christmas, so the next couple of weeks are going to be a bit bumpy…I know that and I’m ready for it. I need to focus on the fact that my skinny life is waiting for me in 2018 and it’s about fucking time I made it happen having spent the last year treading water.
I’ve got a good feeling about this folks…it’s game on 🙂
