For the past few months, I’ve been eating super healthy foods. The problem is that I’ve been seasoning them with things that aren’t so healthy. I’m not only using too much salt, but I’m also using too many Oreos and Doritos.
A few months back, I scored a position on one of those Top 100 Mom Blog lists. Sadly, in the description of me, it said something like, “Angela is a weight-conscious mom.” A weight-conscious mom.
It’s true. You know it’s true and I know it’s true and now everyone (who reads those Top 100 Mom Blog list things) knows it’s true. (I’m also a knitter and a spinner and I pretend to write by actually writing and sometimes I draw and it’s not very good, but it’s certainly fun.)
My relationship with food is complicated. I love it and then I sort of despise myself for loving it. I’ve been like this for as long as I can remember. My roommate during my sophomore year in college told me that I was wide. A friend of mine once told me that I didn’t look good in a certain style of pants. Both of those people probably said really nice things to me, too, but what I remember is Me = Not Quite Right.
(Oh! Wait! Please know that I’m not blaming my issues on my old roommate and my old friend! This is no one’s fault but my own. I ALSO BLAME SOCIETY’S HATRED OF WOMEN. (No, I don’t.))
Anyway, in the past several years, I’ve gone on more diets and weird eating binges and “programs” than I care to count. It’s ridiculous, really.
You: But you should just love yourself the way you are! And see yourself the way others see you! And those pants looks just fine! And get some help!
Me: I know and I know and I know (and I know)! Yet, here we are.
On Monday, May 13th (I realize that was yesterday. Please know that I’m speaking with a booming voice right now.) I decided to MAKE A CHANGE. (Because my weight is up into the Almost Too Late to Go Back Home levels. Because I’m 43 now and I need to feel healthier. (Dear Lord don’t tell me to start eating meat again, by the way. Just don’t.) And I KNOW I’m currently at a reasonable weight. I know. I KNOW! But still. I don’t feel right. This is not my house anymore. I need to get back into my house, and it doesn’t matter how big or small your house is, all I know is I Am Not In The Right House.)
Anyway, on Monday, May 13th, I embarked on a 10-Day Cleanse. This cleanse involves eating no processed foods. No granulated sugar. No dairy. No caffeine. (That’s a tough one.) No alcohol. (Not so tough.) Lots of water and herbal tea and raw fruits and vegetables and beans and IN WITH THE GOOD.
Because I want to see if ten days makes a difference, I stood in the family room in my underpants and sports bra and took a series of Before photos. They’re all sort of blurry and weird and they remind me of amateur porn, not that I have any idea what that is.
I realize it’s pretty bold to put this out there, but here it is. The best BEFORE shot.
I realize that ten days does not a miracle make (unless you’re well-versed in miracles, which I am not). BUT, ten days will hopefully create healthy habits. (I will never fully quit caffeine, so I’m prepared for failure with that one.)
And the comments? They are off. Because I know! (I really do. And I’m definitely not fishing for kindness, and I know that You Are Kind. And that’s why I dig you, and that’s why I stay here.)