Diet Sabotage

Recently, Amber from Me and Jorge wrote about how losing so much weight that she had to buy a new wardrobe "wasn't as fun as you would think", because it meant replacing everything from bras to bathing suits. When I lost 30 pounds on a low-carb diet a couple of years ago, not being able to fit into my old clothes was a major de-motivator for me.

In fact, I think it was part of the reason I sabotaged myself and started eating carbs again, allowing me to eventually gain back all of the weight I'd lost (and more!). It's not like I own any designer clothes or anything remotely worth caring about losing, but not fitting into my old clothes seemed way more scary than fitting into new clothes seemed exciting. There was this one stupid $20 shirt from H&M in particular that hung off of me in such a sad way after losing 20 pounds that I had to fold it up and stick it in the back of a drawer.

I don't even know why I held onto it, but I'm glad I did, because I pulled it right back out as soon as I stupidly decided that a low-calorie diet was right for me and went back up two sizes. If only I'd known that being able to wear it again doesn't feel nearly as good as not wearing it felt bad.

This time around, I'm trying to recognize my self-sabotage and the (sometimes unwitting) sabotage of the people around me and sticking with what I know works for me.

Every Meal is a Decision

It's no secret that food is expensive in NYC. Probably more expensive than anywhere else in the country. My boyfriend and I don't go out to dinner without spending $100 or more, and sites like Midtown Lunch that focus on cheap options end up profiling a whole lot of street vendors who offer neither ambiance nor service. Even when we order in, we easily spend $40 with tip.

So I tried to go grocery shopping Monday night. I stuck to the outside aisles for fresh ingredients like they tell you to, venturing into the other areas only for condiments and a box of cereal for my carb-lovin' boyfriend. I bought:

green peppers
red onions
whipping cream
unsweetened almond milk
turkey breast
chicken breasts
dark chocolate
cream cheese
hot dogs
butter
baking cocoa
cereal
eggs
herb salad
bacon bits
spicy ranch salad dressing
mayonnaise
mustard

And do you know how much my bill was?

EIGHTY-EIGHT DOLLARS. And that doesn't include any of what I'll spend on lunch at work this week.

Clearly that's cheaper than the $40 my boyfriend was spending on us every night, but it's still oppressively high, and now it makes sense to me that people talk about being too poor to afford eating well. When I was at my poorest, which was naturally in college, I was living on all-carb Pasta Roni. (Not ramen, mind you, because I had class.) And I was buying it in Ohio, where everything is so inexpensive it hurts me to think about it now.

And of course my immediate thought was that I could buy a whole lot more clothes and ebooks and movie tickets if I stuck to cans of Chef Boyardee. I don't want to have to choose between eating what's good for my body and saving money, because I'll almost always make the wrong choice.

This is also a problem for me when it comes to eating out. With everything being so expensive here, I want the most delicious thing possible for my dollar. When I see a salad costing $12 right next to a breaded buffalo chicken sandwich with fries for $10, it's an easy choice. And even if that sandwich is $14 instead, it's well worth that extra $2 for me to get the dish I'll really enjoy, even though I know the salad's much better for me in the long run.

Every meal is a decision to change my life, and it's never an easy one.

Finding a Balance

The way I feel today is precisely why I fare better when I'm able to avoid carby foods. I had a super-indulgent lunch today of breaded chicken tenders, french fries, and non-diet Coke, and even though it was way more food than I usually feel the need to eat all at once, I feel anything but full. There was plenty of fat in my meal to fill me up, but all the sugar and starch have just left me craving more of the same stuff.

When I can stick to low-carb eating, I don't even really think about food until the next meal, but right now, all I can think about is how much I want to go down the hall and buy a candy bar and another Coke. Low-carbing really does prove to me (over and over and over) how sugar and starch really do have additctive qualities. There may be plenty of people who don't experience symptoms of addiction when they eat carby foods, but I am definitely not one of those people.

That said, I really don't regret the lunch I had today. It was delicious, I didn't overeat, and I can overcome the effects of this meal with relatively little discomfort.

As you can tell, I'm not the strictest low-carber in the world -- sort of an on for a couple of weeks, off for a couple of days, then back on eater. I feel like I'm constantly re-evaluating how strictly I want to adhere to any particular way of eating. Only a year into this, I still don't think I've struck a good balance between eating what I want to eat and eating what makes me feel the best. (And the foods that make me feel the best emotionally are usually not the foods that make me feel the best physically.)

When I read books and blogs by folks who have been doing low-carb or sugar-free eating for a long time (like four or five years or more), I'm always struck by how confident and committed they seem to their particular ways of eating. I sometimes wonder if it's because they've just been doing it long enough to have really found what works for them, or if they're just trying so hard to sell others on their "lifestyles" that they end up convincing themselves that they've got it all figured out.

I do not have it all figured out. But I think it's definitely worth it to me to keep trying.