Jul 7: I ca fee my tugh

Dearest bloglodytes,

It's been a little while. I like to keep you in suspense. Currently I am in my early summer shame spiral. It's an annual event for this time of year. Not feeling too shamey, I am happy to report. Here's the sitch: my birthday is June 26. This year, the festivities started a little early. We had pre-birthday birthday week eatings. Then there were the birthday eatings. Not too bad this year, actually. This was followed by a couple of days of post-birthday eatings. Oops. Next thing you know, it's June 30 and I'm on a plane out to my Nana's for 4 days of family eatings. I made fair-to-middling attempts to keep the sabotage light and airy, like a buttery croissant. Getting drunk those two nights didn't help. Ah, WTF. It's family. I'm supposed to endure it sober?

So anyway. I came back on Sunday morning this week. Red-eye. I went to bed when I got home, and when I woke up later I felt like, hmmm... not done eating yet. So this week has been total baron munchausen. I haven't weighed myself since before I left for my Nana's - a week ago, come to think. I keep thinking I can still rescue this trainwreck, get rid of at least the water retention numbers before I get weighed on Saturday. But then I start to feel reckless. But then I see myself in the mirror. But then I think of chocolate. But then my pants are not as roomy. You can see my dilemma!

Anyway, slightly off the rails at this point. I just ate a 235 gram bag of Salt and Vinegar chips, here in my office at work. The bag was hidden from view in one of my canvas grocery bags. I was sneaking handfuls out. (SECRET EATING!!! The best kind for obsessive eaters such as I!) Alas, my tongue feels like it went for a swim in the Dead Sea. This gives new meaning to the term "salty tongue". Fuck, yeah!!!

Later dudes. Enjoy the summer shame spiral.

Jun 30: Still 150 After All These Years

Earlier today somebody posted a comment on an old video of mine (technically they are all old videos, I realize, and one of these days I will post a new one). The video is dated March 17 - it's the one where I'm running on the treadmill. In it I mentioned my weight was 153.5. This morning when I weighed myself I was 150. Three months later. I was 149, I know, but then my birthday happened. On Friday there was cake, and another cake, culminating in cake for breakfast on Saturday. And then there were Ruffles, and on Sunday afternoon while the Miaouw napped, I ate three croissants. With margarine. [Why is the 'g' soft in the word "margarine", when it is followed by an 'a'?] [Very deft distraction from the piggery, n'est-ce pas?]

Well anyway, if the birthday derailment happened only once a year, it would be fine, but the truth is, I allow myself to get pretty lax on the weekends and I'm sure that's slowing me down considerably. But then again, I remember three months ago when I was a lot more diligent with my diet and I was frustrated by my slow progress. More frustrated, really because I felt like I was doing everything right and still not getting results.

In my birthday blog, I talked a bit about accepting my demons rather than struggling against them. I guess I sort of feel like that about it. Progress not perfection and all that bestsellerselfhelpspeak. Of course, I'm never completely comfortable with the acceptance business because I am mindful of using this touchy-feely accept myself thing as an excuse to give in to unhealthy habits and feel alright about it. But then when I type that, I think, what's wrong with wanting to feel alright, anyway?

Ultimately this inner dialogue is just a distraction. I know what's good for me and what's not good for me, and I know that occasional indulgences are fine; binges are not. I also know that I'm not done with binge behaviour, and while I am reducing the frequency of the episodes, I still need to be able to forgive myself and move on and not wallow and spiral just because I let the demons have their way when it happens.

Jun 26: Finally, life begins!

Happy Birthday to me! Some thoughts on turning 40:

People have been asking me if I plan to do anything special. My response has just been to shrug and say, whatever. I haven't felt much of anything about it, one way or the other: dread or excitement. But this morning I was lying in bed and I had a bit of panic when I realized that when people ask me how old I am, I will have to say "40". It seemed to trigger that low-level anxiety that's always humming in the background about how I haven't done anything with my life of any import. I think this anxiety is borne of our culture's pre-occupation with individualism, the need to see ourselves as special, unique, different. Some people do it by naming their children Pilot Inspektor, others by broadcasting their thoughts on Twitter every 10 minutes... or, ahem, blogging them. I once had a therapist tell me that my desire to be special was what was making me unhappy. Still puzzling out how to rid myself of that desire. But actually, I am closer to understanding what makes me special. I think what I need to focus on for awhile is what makes everyone else special.

[burrrrp] Okay, moving on from the deeply profound crap.

When I started this weight loss journey back in January, I was looking to my 40th birthday five months away as a short-term goal, hoping to be a lot thinner, to finally fit back into these great capri pants I got a couple years ago, to be able to bask in this accomplishment of getting my weight under control. Well, I am thinner, but not a lot thinner. I weighed in at 149 this morning. The capri pants do up, but just barely. And yet, I bask. I ran 5 miles last night. I can say, as I did when I turned 30, that I am fitter now than I have ever been in my life. I've stopped fighting those demons that have led to my food issues and just sort of accepted them as part of me. That's not the same thing as giving up. It's more like a détente, which is allowing me to find some peace.

Through this amazing thing called the Internet, I've made so many friends across Canada, the United States, and amazingly, the rest of the world. Many have long since moved past this arbitrary marker that we endow with so much meaning, and I see them thriving, relaxed and at peace with themselves, even as they continue with the daily struggles of life. I'm inspired by all of you, reassured that aging is not something to be feared, but something to be embraced. Thank you everyone.

I came thisclose to wearing my tiara to work today, but decided against it. (I do very fondly remember the night I received it, from my home girl Lanie, on the very drunken occasion of my 36th birthday, singing karaoke and doing smash-up derby cheers with far too many screwdrivers.) I settled for my World Wildlife Fund "Hotter Than I Should Be" t-shirt. Avec flair.