Water is stupid. Sorry, water is STOOPID.

Yeah yeah yeah, it happens, I know. You can't help water gains blah blah blah. Keep talkin', even though I'm not really listening.

I gained weight this week. Nothing overly shocking, but it was still a gain. Honestly, I got off easy. A 2lb gain is really nothing considering I was all watery thanks to the female condition AND it's been so incredibly humid here. Some people at my meeting gained 5+lbs from the humidity alone. Welcome to a Southern Ontario summer, where the humidity boosts the heat values at least 10 degrees even at night. I walked to the gym at 6 this morning, the sun wasn't even totally up yet, and the humidex was already in the low 30's (you can do your own fahrenheit conversions, I have faith in your abilities). After 20 minutes of just walking, I walked into the Y drenched with sweat. The lady who works at the counter just kind of chuckled because I wasn't the only one arriving in that condition. I proceeded to workout and make matters worse, but it was worth it.

At the meeting this week, we talked about cravings and the management thereof. It was an interesting conversation, and I think it's something that anyone attempting to ditch some lard needs to think about. More than just cravings though, I really think it spreads into the idea of verboten food.

I've written before about how I managed to stop smoking a few years ago, and the same logic applies to food cravings. I "stopped" smoking, not "quit". The simple choice of words allowed my brain to relax. No pressure. Quitting has a finality to it that, for me, tempts failure. When I think of "quitting" smoking, I automatically think of cranky fucking people who do nothing but bitch and moan about nic fits and the injustice of it all. Oh the humanity of wanting to add time on your life and not smell like shit. Oh the unfairness of saving buckets of cash (seriously, a large pack of name brand smokes goes for $10+ around here. Jesus.) Woe is me, woe is me...

When I say that I simply "stopped" smoking, it's different. If I started again, it was no big deal. I didn't quit and then shamefully start again, smarting from the failure of not being able cut it without a smoke in my hand. Another key point was that I didn't really tell anyone I was stopping. That made a HUGE difference. I think I only told one person, and even then I had said something like "I ran out of smokes yesterday, I'm just going to see what happens if I don't buy another pack". No major proclamation of "Hear ye, hear ye one and all, Lesley Bell has quit smoking cigarettes after TWENTY LONG YEARS! Bow down...". Nope, it was my business and I was accountable to only me if I decided to light up again. Which I didn't. It will be 3 years in January and I still haven't had a nic fit. I'm not saying it won't happen, but so far so good.

What it comes down to is a choice being made, and that choice applies to cigarettes, food, whatever the problem vice may be, those just happen to be mine. Feeling deprived is a really sore point for me, I attribute it to listening to angry punk rock most of my life. I can't have something I want? Really? That's interesting. Tell me that again, but you'll have to speak up because I'm busy cracking my knuckles....

These days, I am pretty level with myself. You want a pack of smokes? Sure, go for it. There's a store on the corner that sells all kinds of 'em. Do it up if you want. I have the option. I simply choose not to. No deprivation, no sense of lacking.

I find I have been doing the same with food lately. That thing of danishes looks pretty good. Want it? Go for it. They're overpriced but still, if you want 'em, they're there. (Nope, not worth it.) Hey, tubes of cookie dough are right there. (Meh, whatevs, that was always an instantly regretted decision)....you get the picture. By not denying myself, I don't feel deprived. I know what I'm doing is to better myself, and I really don't get too jazzed at the idea of having to work twice as hard to see no change on the scale. Fuck that! I work hard enough as it is to see that number go down, I'm not going to make it harder on myself for cryin' out sakes.

Now, this is what does the trick for me and me only. If we were all the same, then Oprah would have solved our fat problem decades ago.

Here's to another week of keepin' on with the keepin' on.

xo
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