Oh deary me. I may have accidentally obliterated a chinese takeaway and a KFC this weekend. It wasn’t just me, of course. Chris was there too. But he’s not the one trying to slim down to fit into a wedding dress, is he? Well… I hope not, at least. That’ll be an interesting walk down the isle.
Aah, yes, the weekend. The weekends are the hardest to stay on track and eat healthy, for me at least, although usually I can resist most temptations and choose the healthier options, and feel smug whilst doing so too.
But this weekend? Oh no. Something primal took over and I wanted to eat everything. The main reason – mother nature. Sorry to all my male readers, but I’m a girl, and unfortunately I can’t get away from periods so I’m dragging you down with me too. You’re welcome.
It’s bad enough being anaemic already. The fatigue from Crohn’s doesn’t help, and I’m assuming the lack of colon usage (and therefore no natural B12 intake) is also a big factor. So most days are a struggle. I know I don’t often talk about it, and I always seem so bouncy and positive, but jeeeeeesus I swear every day is a struggle to wake up. Most days, a cup of tea will sort me out. But everything is a million times worse when my period arrives. The day before, I get all aggravated over the smallest of things. Anything can set me off. Not being able to find something, or my iPhone running out of battery, or realising that my tea went cold. Any one of those minor niggles turns me into a raving lunatic around that time. And then, when my period finally arrives, I seem to want to go into a state of hibernation. I swear my body goes into shock, like it had forgotten what happened the month before and freaks the hell out.
“OH GOD, I’M FALLING APART,” it cries.
I suffer with very heavy periods (again, you’re welcome) and they’re always very painful on the first day, sometimes the second day too. After the first two days it gets much more bearable and I don’t feel as sorry for myself by the third or fourth days. But this weekend consisted of those first two days.
All I wanted to do was eat. Like I said, most of the time I can resist temptations at the weekend, but Chris suggested takeaway, and I was in some kind of weakened state. Not that it’s entirely his fault. I think, even if he hadn’t have suggested a takeaway, I’d have probably ended up eating a whole block of cheese anyway, the mood I was in.
And I know, all the advice from healthcare professionals: “Gentle exercise actually helps relieve period pain” and “eating lots of iron-rich vegetables such as spinach will help with energy”, blah blah blah. I know that. But did I give a shit about all that at that particular moment in time? No. Did I want to eat a bowl of spinach? No. Did I want to go for a walk? No. I lost all rationale and reasoning and I wanted a chicken chow mein immediately, whilst curled up in pyjamas on the sofa.
So that was Saturday. Oh, and Sunday was a KFC.
The funny this is, I had been thinking about junk food ever since this stupid news story came out about how ‘junk food causes Crohn’s disease’. I think all the talk of it just made me want some. Almost like a “screw you” to Dr Sally Mitton, who is the gastroenteroligist who is making these claims. It was also a bit like when I watched Super Size Me – I know it was supposed to highlight the dangers of eating fast food, but all I could think about whilst watching that entire documentary film was how much I was craving a Big Mac.
So, how did I feel after my comfort food binge? Exactly as you’d expect. I felt pure delight whilst shoveling all that food into my mouth, as if it was my last ever meal. Of course I did, it tasted amazing. That kind of food is designed to taste good, that’s how they get you to keep eating it.
You have to remember that, for months and months, I wasn’t able to eat anything. It was torture when my Crohn’s was in full flare. All I could think about was eating… something. Anything. And part of me still remembers how that felt, so when I do give in to unhealthy food, that part of me thinks, “oh god, this is amazing” and I feel no guilt. But, of course, the food hangover kicks in. That feeling of regret and fullness comes flooding through, and you end up feeling like crap. You mutter the phrase “that’s it, that’s the last time, I’m never doing that again”. But we all know that one day, it’ll happen all over again. Maybe not soon, but one day.
And so, I sit here, at 5:30am on a Monday morning, ready for the guilt-workout. The workout that I’m hoping will burn off the entire weekend’s food-related bender. Of course, it’ll only be a tiny dent in the calories that I consumed over the weekend. I’d probably have to do about five high-intensity workouts back-to-back to burn that off. And this is the important thing that I need to remember – ‘one step forward and two steps back’ doesn’t need to last forever. I know it’s my own fault for getting into this mess, but my usual mind-set is to say “what’s the point, now?” and I just carry on eating utter shite, and don’t work out.
Let’s go for a Sliding Doors moment here. Thaila A decides to carry on and eat like crap and stop working out. Thaila B, however, decides to not let this blip get the better of her and she decides to work out and eat healthily for at least this week but hopefully a lot longer. Compare the results after one week. After one month. After three months. Even though this weekend was terrible, it was two days. Two days, out of the 97 days that are left until my wedding. Roughly 2% of the time left. Really? Am I going to let 2% get the better of me? I don’t think so.
So even though I felt like balls this weekend (partly self-inflicted, partly period-related), I will not let it ruin my progress. Yes, I’ve taken a couple of steps back, but who says what happens after those two steps. How about one step forward, two steps back, then five steps forward? Ten steps? Screw that blip in the road. Just manoeuvre around it and keep on going.