If I had a journal I’d write the following ramble in it. But I don’t, so here it goes…
Easter Sunday turned out pretty well. Lots of chocolate was eaten, the Roast Dinner went down a treat, and I found myself with a completely insatiable hunger which I couldn’t seem to satisfy.
Despite being horribly full from the gigantic Roast, I could not stop eating. This is not unusual, it happens every night after we have our tea but it felt different this time. Rather than being consumed with feelings of guilt and greed while eating a load of junk, yesterday I completely embraced it and tried eating anything and everything to satisfy my (not physical) hunger. Nothing worked! I simply couldn’t get enough food, it was almost as if I really wanted something…but I didn’t know what that ‘something’ was so had to keep eating in order to find out what I really wanted. I never found out. But what I did discover, was that is wasn’t Easter egg, or scone & jam, or a mint aero lamb, or porridge, or creme egg, or banana, or granola, or a raspberry sundae, or dark toblerone…there simply wasn’t anything which could satisfy me. But I felt positive and happy to be eating yummy food.
That was yesterday. Today had been a whole different ball game. Why are two days so different?
Woke up feeling fine, and pretty damn proud of yesterday’s eats. Kept up the eats with breakfast/snacks and then nipped into town because I’m sick of not being able to do up my trousers. Bad decision. I thought maybe I’d be ready to hit the shops and do some clothes shopping but I was very very wrong. Ok, so maybe I’m a defeatist in that I only tried on 3 pairs of jeans but each pair looked ridiculous. They were all at least 3 inches too long (damn being a short arse) and I felt fine picking up a bigger size to take to the changing room. Finding that the size up were too small was the breaking point.
I cut my losses and drove home. I’m definitely not ready to indulge in retail therapy just yet, I can’t seem to try on clothes without wishing my thighs were magically smaller and longer. Not. Gonna. Happen.
I stressed out over whether to buy a sandwich to take home or make something when I got back – but then that would depend on whether we were going out to eat tonight. That shouldn’t happen. Whatever the evening meal is should not affect what I choose for lunch but it did, and it upset me. In the end, I made the wiser choice and bought a sandwich (higher cal than I’d have cooked myself). I later found out we weren’t going out for dinner because Mum had a migrane, so I had to pick up some good ‘ol ready meals. Yes, I know we’re lazy.
Cue another impossible supermarket trip. My head was spinning with numbers, and I can’t seem to make the right decision when faced with ready meals. I make the wimpy choice every damn time. I’m angry with myself because I know I’m just going to have to eat a load of (albeit tasty) chocolate and cakes to reach the calorie goal for the day, whereas if I’d have chosen a higher calorie main meal there wouldn’t be as much to cram in after dinner. It happens every single time and I’m not strong enough to change it.
There was another stress when I realised I couldn’t not choose the low calorie meal. I’d resigned myself to the fact that I would have the usual low cal food, and then make up the calories but I worked out there would still be about 900 calories to eat after dinner which is a lot. I thought about buying a Galaxy Muffin but it scared me too much. Then I thought maybe a flapjack would be good? Scared me as well. Then I saw this:
A ‘banoffee bar’, which is a banana flavour flapjack with caramel, chocolate and banana. I wanted it. I really really wanted it. It had no numbers on it, which is usually ACE for me because I can eat it without worrying how much fat is in it. For some reason, I was absolutely desperate to know how many calories it contained so I’d know how much more I needed to eat. I got into such a mess. Even stooped as low as to try and Google the company address while stood in the supermarket to see if the nutritional information was on their website. What a crank.
In the end, I had no signal and couldn’t find out, so I didn’t buy it. In fact I threw it, hard, to the back of the toilet roll shelf. I’m such an idiot. I should have bought the damn flapjack because it would have tasted good, not just because it may have helped reach the calorie goal.
I’m trying to see a brighter side in all this, so I’ll add the fact that I did buy a flapjack, a chocolate covered one. I’m petrified of it, but I bought it. I know there are 300 calories in it, which is absurd for such a small thing if you ask me – but I simply have to eat it in the knowledge that it will be good for recovery. Also in the knowledge that I should have bought the damn banoffee bar! Another positive was adding some liquid calories today, something I’m extremely uncomfortable with. If I need calories I’d much rather munch them, but I bought a smoothie which went down nicely. Oh, and part of pudding tonight will be a triple Chocolate Brownie which I’ll have later with some ice cream. It makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. The brownie doesn’t have any nutritional information on it either, but for some reason I don’t have a problem eating it? With added ice cream calories? I make no sense to myself, so doubt I make sense to anybody else.
Again, another moany, mixed up, ranting post. It amazes me how the highs can be so so high, and the lows so stupidly low. I am waiting for the day where I can pick up a banoffee bar (or other delectable treat) and not care how much fat is in it. I want to not care if it is high in fat, and not constantly worry about meeting my target for the day and messing up my recovery.
This is frustratingly difficult sometimes.