This reduced-sugar resolution is difficult. I mean, I’m doing it. Not exactly on the schedule I set out, but still going whole days (often two, occaionally three) without dessert. However, I think about it a lot, and sometimes the only thing keeping me off the English toffee is
Nom nom nom.
I know I should cut the sugar out completely. People say that the cravings would go away. But I just can’t right now. I’m 100% positive I would end up bingeing if I tried to go more than two days. Even one time last week, I was trying to avoid a sweet item, and I ended up eating everything around it. And then it.
But sugar is a poison, and I don’t want to be toxic. Sugar is a drug, and I don’t want to be an addict. That’s why I’m doing this.
Funny thing is (not funny-ha-ha, but funny-makes-me-throw-temper-tantrums-in-my-head), people assume I’m doing it for weight loss. Realized this a couple weeks ago when I talked with another woman about eating two Hershey’s kisses and really savoring them, rather than doing the Lucy in the Chocolate Factory routine I usually do.
Other woman: Well, you’re not worried about the sugar, you’re worried about the calories, and that was only thirty calories, so that’s great.
Me: …No, I’m not worried about the calories. I’m trying to cut down on sugar for its own sake.
‘Cause I don’t do shit to lose weight anymore. I don’t believe I’ll ever be thinner than I am. I’m—what’s the word?—resigned.
Not that I don’t want to be not-fat. I do want to be not-fat. I just have no confidence that I can do—or, I guess, that I can cultivate the willingness to do—what’s required to be not-fat.
Of course, four people in the last few weeks told me how much weight I’ve lost or said I looked skinny. I told them it was because I was wearing a tighter shirt than normal so I was sucking in my gut. Which was true.
Naturally, I haven’t lost weight. I weigh five pounds more than I did when I started CrossFit*. OK, whatever, muscle mass, distribution, toning, blah blah blahdi-fucking-blah. I’m sick of thinking about it.
Point is, I’ve made my bed every day of 2012. That counts for something, right?
*Update: I guess not. When I weighed in at the meet on Saturday, I weighed 170, which is approximately five pounds less than a year and a half ago.