Ah... sod it!
It's a strange phenomenon, dieting. No other time do you have the ah... sod it! approach when things go a little astray.
If you're driving your car when the vehicle in front throws up a stone which chips your windscreen, do you stop the car, get out and take a shoe to it, smashing it too smithereens? No, you bemoan the damage and thank a greater being that it's out of the MOT-failure radius.
If you're applying your makeup and sneeze, and end up rocking the panda look, do you slather lipstick and eye shadow on 'til you resemble a Picasso? No, you carefully remove the excess with a cotton wool bud and carry on.
So why is it, when you break a diet, you throw your toys out the pram and binge, binge, binge?
When you step off the scales, those soul-crushing, hope-bashing scales, with the newly affirmed knowledge that despite increased exercise and self-deprivation, you've gained instead of lost, does temptation win?
Why is it that if you sneak a chip or two from your friend's plate during a lunch, just to liven up your salad, you end up with your own side order of triple cooked fries, with lashings of mayonnaise?
Why is it that, after a day of successful control, you return home and the single slice of bread you've dreamed of your entire journey home (damn those carbs) turns into two, with the leftovers from your children's supper plates sandwiched between them?
Do you exist in a cycle of self loathing, which inevitably leads to comfort eating? A cycle which belies the phrase as eating offers no comfort, when it makes your clothes this tight...
It can't just be me, surely?
Eating disorders are myriad: anorexia; bulimia; binge eating; emotional overeating; OSFED (other specified or eating disorder). They are all serious mental illnesses, and are as much about feelings and relationships with food as the food itself. They aren't limited to just young women, they can affect anyone. There's no one-fits-all cure, just as there's no one-fits-all diagnosis.
Some people aren't built to be that media-portrayed perfect body - I know I'm not. I'm not professing to be an expert on eating disorders and body dysmorphia issues, but I do know that sometimes, I can't stop eating and other days I don't want to eat at all. I'm a master at hiding food and its evidence too, although that's mostly so I don't have to share my chocolate with the kids...
I'm fortunate - I have a family who love me and think I'm beautiful regardless of how I view myself. And however I look, I'm still the same me inside: kind, considerate, generous.
We live in a world where you're judged on your appearance but as the adage goes, don't judge a book by its cover. There's a whole back story to my novel: how I look is not who I am. And for the days when I'm battling against food, there's always an elasticated waistband somewhere in the house.
If you're driving your car when the vehicle in front throws up a stone which chips your windscreen, do you stop the car, get out and take a shoe to it, smashing it too smithereens? No, you bemoan the damage and thank a greater being that it's out of the MOT-failure radius.
If you're applying your makeup and sneeze, and end up rocking the panda look, do you slather lipstick and eye shadow on 'til you resemble a Picasso? No, you carefully remove the excess with a cotton wool bud and carry on.
So why is it, when you break a diet, you throw your toys out the pram and binge, binge, binge?
When you step off the scales, those soul-crushing, hope-bashing scales, with the newly affirmed knowledge that despite increased exercise and self-deprivation, you've gained instead of lost, does temptation win?
Why is it that if you sneak a chip or two from your friend's plate during a lunch, just to liven up your salad, you end up with your own side order of triple cooked fries, with lashings of mayonnaise?
Why is it that, after a day of successful control, you return home and the single slice of bread you've dreamed of your entire journey home (damn those carbs) turns into two, with the leftovers from your children's supper plates sandwiched between them?
Do you exist in a cycle of self loathing, which inevitably leads to comfort eating? A cycle which belies the phrase as eating offers no comfort, when it makes your clothes this tight...
It can't just be me, surely?
Eating disorders are myriad: anorexia; bulimia; binge eating; emotional overeating; OSFED (other specified or eating disorder). They are all serious mental illnesses, and are as much about feelings and relationships with food as the food itself. They aren't limited to just young women, they can affect anyone. There's no one-fits-all cure, just as there's no one-fits-all diagnosis.
Some people aren't built to be that media-portrayed perfect body - I know I'm not. I'm not professing to be an expert on eating disorders and body dysmorphia issues, but I do know that sometimes, I can't stop eating and other days I don't want to eat at all. I'm a master at hiding food and its evidence too, although that's mostly so I don't have to share my chocolate with the kids...
I'm fortunate - I have a family who love me and think I'm beautiful regardless of how I view myself. And however I look, I'm still the same me inside: kind, considerate, generous.
We live in a world where you're judged on your appearance but as the adage goes, don't judge a book by its cover. There's a whole back story to my novel: how I look is not who I am. And for the days when I'm battling against food, there's always an elasticated waistband somewhere in the house.
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Thanks for ranting!