Some days, it’s brutally hard to stick to my eating goals. Since the beginning, for some strange reason, I’ve been extremely consistent with my exercise. In the entire five years I’ve been making this lifestyle change, I’ve kept up with my workouts. I’ve only gone without exercising at most two weeks once or twice during that time period.
Eating is a whole different story. It’s a constant challenge. Easy days are few and far between. Unfortunately, my BF occasionally adds to the difficulty. Although he’s making baby steps in developing a healthy diet, he still eats all kinds of things that are tremendous trigger foods for me: pizza, nachos, other types of fast food.
Tonight was a double whammy. He wanted Mexican. He’s always gracious and thoughtful about asking what I would like. He knows that his food choices can be hard for me, and he always gives me the option to get what I’d like. Because I was very close to my calorie limit for the day (a new, lower limit I’d recently set for myself), there was really nothing that was going to work for me, so I went with Mexican. I ordered a small shrimp taco and ate the innards, tossing out the two small flour tortillas that came with it. He got a beef taco, a beef and bean burrito and beef nachos. Normally, I can afford to eat some of the nachos because my calorie limit is higher. Plus, I like them with sour cream and guacamole, two condiments that he can’t stand. Tonight, the restaurant loaded the nachos up with both SC and G. There was no way my BF could salvage any of those tortilla chips, which meant they were all left for me.
After keeping my calories fairly low all day, I was extremely hungry, and the nachos were exactly the way I like ‘em… the way I love ‘em, actually. I ate a few of them and then had to force myself to throw the rest away. It took every ounce of willpower I had to do it. Once they were in the trash, I thought I was over the hump. My BF said his taco and burrito would suffice. I fixed myself some diet cocoa with sugar-free Torani syrup and breathed a sigh of relief.
Suddenly, though, he decided that he was going to have pizza and breadsticks delivered. I bit my lip and thought, “you can do it; you can resist”. When the order arrived, the smell was fantastic. I kept eyeing his plate as he was munching away. The only thing that kept me from running into the kitchen and grabbing a slice and a stick was remembering the night before, when we were out at our favorite bar and a friend of my BF’s noted how I’d lost more weight and said I was “hot”.
It took a Herculean effort on my part not to give in to the nachos… well, not to give in to them more than I did… and the pizza. Of course, there’s still pizza and breadsticks left in the fridge, and the night looms ahead. I am taking it hour by hour and hoping that sleep will see me through the potential danger.
The worst of it is that I don’t feel victorious. I could have done so much worse with my eating tonight than I did, and yet I feel like a failure, like I’ve let myself down by not sticking with my original goal for the day.
I remind myself that I can only do what I can do… that lasting success means living in the real world where not everyone keeps as spartan a pantry as I do… that I obviously must be doing something right if I’ve lost 114 pounds and continue to keep it off. That’s all true, but tonight it’s not helping. 