I got angry on Saturday night. Really angry. Anger isn’t a normal response for me – frustration and deflation are familiar responses, but anger doesn’t come out all that much. But I really was angry. And that anger was directed at myself.
It was about 11:30pm, and I was sitting alone in my front room, watching the telly. I’d eaten relatively well that day. Actually, that’s a lie. I hadn’t eaten well that day, but I hadn’t eaten awfully, at least until about 11:30pm. Within the next thirty minutes, I’d eaten the remainder of that evenings Chinese takeaway, the remaining half of the large bag of crisps that I’d already started earlier in the evening, two-thirds of a pot of Ben and Jerry’s Phish Food and three chocolate biscuits.
Now I’m aware that I’m a fat guy. Honestly. Even though I’m still surprised just how fat I look when I see photographs of me, I do know I’m fat. But I don’t want to be fat. So why am I acting like I want to be fat? Am I fat guy who wants to shrink, or a fat guy who wants to stay fat?
Just to revisit that Saturday night, I need to clearly explain what was happening while I was eating that stuff. First of all, I wasn’t hungry. I’d been quite stuffed earlier in the evening after the Chinese takeaway, but hadn’t eaten anything after that. Actually, scrub that – I’d had half a large bag of crisps, which is the equivalent of three normal bags of crisps. But I wasn’t stuffed. But I definitely wasn’t hungry. And I knew I wasn’t hungry while I was eating all that stuff. I was aware that I wasn’t hungry, and I was hating myself while I was eating it. Now it’s really common for me to hate myself after I’ve eaten badly, but it’s not that common for me to be conscious enough to hate myself while I’m eating it. I was eating way too quickly to taste the food, let alone enjoy it – I was wolfing it down really, but I was really having to force myself to eat it because I just wasn’t hungry.
Let’s sum that up – I knew I wasn’t hungry, it was physically hard to eat, I wasn’t enjoying it and I was hating myself for doing it, yet I still managed to consume, at a conservative guess, more than the recommended calorie intake for a man, in just half an hour. All this at the end of the day where I’d already consumed more than the recommended calorie intake for a man.
I can’t explain it. I really can’t. But I’m angry.
I’ve spent what seems like my entire life watching from the sidelines while I harm myself, and that’s what’s made me angry. I’ve always looked on while I’m doing this to myself, as if I’m helpless to control it, or to intervene in any way, and that stops here. Well actually it stopped in the early hours of Sunday morning, but it stops.
I refuse to be a helpless observer in my own demise. Point blank refuse.
I don’t have much of a plan here – I don’t want to start-up again on any diet plan or programme. I want to be in control.
The first significant step that I’m going to take is this – I’m cutting out the caffeine and artificial sweeteners in my life. I don’t drink tea or coffee, and have pretty much lived on fizzy drinks, either diet or regular, for my entire adult life. I rarely drink water, even though I enjoy it when I do. The first thing I drink in the morning is a diet drink of some sort, and the last thing I drink at night will be the same, along with pretty much every drink in between. I have no idea what that’s been doing to me, but I’m pretty certain it’s not good, and it certainly hasn’t helped me lose weight. So it’s going.
I’ve cut back on coke products before, and suffered from serious headaches, and have always gone back. I’ve always replaced coke with lemonade or some other fizzy drinks, so I think I can say with some embarrassment, that I have never gone without sugary or sweetenery (my word – sorry) drinks for as much as a single day. Not once in my adult life.
So for now, I’m angry, and I’m determined. I will not be a helpless observer in my own demise. I will take control.
And it starts with the drinks – bring on the water.