Photo: jamieanne, Flickr
After cancer, I made some big changes in my life. It all started because I wanted to lose the 10 pounds treatment had forced upon me, and because I wanted to rid my body of the toxins that had been suffocating it for a year and half.
The changes (no alcohol, no sweets, no red meat, no really fatty foods, lots of fruits and veggies, lots of exercise), well, they worked. I lost 15 pounds, got in shape, scored a great resting heart rate and super cholesterol levels, and I became healthier than ever.
Yes, it was tough at times to refuse the brownies and pass on birthday cake, but I became so happy in my skin that the few seconds it would take to stuff down a sweet treat just didn’t seem worth it anymore.
My willpower lasted for three years.
Three. Whole. Years.
And then something horrible happened.
Halloween 2009 arrived.
And I fell down.
One little bite of one little Tootsie Roll from my kids’ stash, and that was it. The sugary flood gates opened, and I just couldn’t get them closed. For nearly 10 months.
If there’s something I’ve learned about my relationship with sweets over the years, it’s this: One cookie isn’t enough. One slice of pie won’t do it. One mini Halloween treat — you get the idea, right?
So, what started with one indulgence back in October led to a feast in November, a baking frenzy in December, a free-for-all in January and February (I was training for a 1/2 marathon, and I became ravenous), and, well, there are no excuses for March, April, May, June, or July. I just ate the sweets I wanted, when I wanted, and while I really didn’t like that my scale had jumped 5 pounds and my middle felt uncomfortably soft, I couldn’t find the drive to get back on track.
Until a few weeks ago, when the tides turned.
I’m not sure how, or why, but just as hard as I fell, I got back up, and now, I seem to have my footing again. I can’t promise I’ll keep it, but for the moment, the sweets are off limits. I’m tightening up the reigns on my favorite crackers and nuts and carb-y snacks, too, and I’ve never let go of my commitment to no alcohol, no red meat, lots of fruits and veggies, and regular exercise, which means the scale is back on track, my middle is firming up, and I’m feeling a whole lot better about the skin I’m in.
Finally.
It’s been said that falling down is not what matters most. It’s the getting back up again that counts.
I agree.
Still, I hope I don’t fall again, because, really, it’s not all that fun.
