The song has nothing to do with this blog, it’s just what I woke up with in my head. Moving on to the unsexy subject at hand. Diet. Or as some folks prefer to call it “way of eating”. I get the negative connotations of the word diet but my mouth is too lazy to say ‘way of eating’. I save my energy for more important things, like…eating.
I didn’t lose weight on keto but I didn’t gain either. And looking back at when the most recent weight gain began again, it was clearly last December, which is when I fell off the keto wagon and didn’t bother climbing back on. Other hot diets such as paleo or “intuitive eating” somehow justified my renewed craving for carbs in which I began indulging in again in the “healthy” forms of live grain bread and gluten free pasta. I wasn’t eating crap every day but it was definitely more than the once-a-week cheat I allowed myself before. Plus I was ignoring my daily carb intake and inhaling snacks of gluten-free crackers, pretzels and of course my weakness, tortilla chips.
I’ve gained so much that I haven’t weighed myself in a year. Although my clothes, jumping from a 10 to a 14/16 tell the truth.
From the outside looking in, my diet still looks relatively healthy but I know I can’t eat like this and still feel or look good. Although reading blogs from other people with hypothyroid, hashimoto’s, multiple endocrine neoplasia and other endocrine and autoimmune disorders, the path seems to point to keto. Except they also want you to give up soy (check), gluten (check), dairy (ummm…), Coffee (I’m outta here…)
But I did keto for almost two years and although I was gravely disappointed to never experience that weight “flush” that folks with properly functioning endocrine systems enjoyed, I wasn’t carrying around a hashi’s baby in my gut that never came to term like I am now (that’s extreme bloat by the way).
I take a inventory of my current kitchen. bags of crackers, triscuits, leftover cheat pizza in the freezer, and then there’s the 3lb bag of sour gummy bears guiltily staring me in the face that I bought when I was crashing and craving on recent overnight shifts at work. Okay, maybe I have lost control. Maybe it’s time to rein it back in. So I’ll give the gummies to my co-workers and round up the triscuits and pretzel crisps and donate them to my family (even though they shouldn’t be eating them either, there is no way in hell they are giving up carbs). The pizza I will probably finish off in a last hurrah because I can’t throw out pizza anymore than I can’t bring myself to throughout Pizza any more than I can throw out hundred dollar bills. The tortilla chips I will keep but I will go back to counting them out in a bowl, 12, before indulging.
If I start this week, just maybe I can squeeze back into my sequins by our December show. It would be the one-year mark from the last time I could button up my jazz vest. That’ll be my goal.