A Weight Loss, and a Weekend Setback

After a truly fabulous week, I did run into one of my typical pitfalls this weekend. I weighed myself on Saturday morning and had lost 5 pounds, yay! Then, I ate out at a restaurant with family and ended up "only" losing 1.4 pounds at my Weight Watchers meeting on Sunday morning--but that is okay.

Sunday evening, I went to a Pat Benatar concert with my dad and sisters. (Rocking, badass women, FTW!) It was a great time. I was on Points all day, and had even brought a favorite protein bar that might as well be a candy bar for a snack after the concert. I planned the whole time that I would have this snack after the concert.

Then, out came the gourmet cupcakes. And out came the locally made pints of ice cream.

The thing that did it? My dad ate some ice cream. As soon as this happened, a switch went off in my head and I went off the rails--two cupcakes and a whole pint of smores ice cream, gone in 60 seconds (well, 60 minutes, but who's counting?).

This was a purely psychological misstep. Seeing my dad eat the ice cream, something happened on a primal level in my brain.

Dad and Me, 2004

There's a lot of backstory with my dad. I was estranged from him for a long time, and now we're
much closer and I love to hang out with him. My dad and I are very similar. And one thing that we share is a sweet tooth.

I've spent so much time wondering why I react the way I do to food. My dad has told me that he'll be eating dinner and while he's eating, he'll be wondering what he's going to eat next, what's for dessert. He said he doesn't know why he does this. That is me exactly. I will be halfway through lunch and thinking about dinner or snack or anything food-related.

So I do believe this is genetic in many ways. It's also environmental, and my formative environment was all about food, in many ways. As a child, sharing desserts was a huge part of my relationship with my dad. Dinner would end, and out would come the big bag of M&Ms or the Oreos, fork carefully inserted into the cream, dunked in milk, or the amazing malts he would make me and my sisters. Desserts brought us together, when in many ways I felt separated from my dad.

I think this all, in the blur of a millisecond, flew through my mind. Dad is having ice cream, so it is okay for me to have it. I should have it. It's like the old days.

And don't get me wrong, it was good--but it also made me mad at myself because it went counter to everything I'm setting out to accomplish.

I know there are many things I could have done differently: I could have not had the cupcakes, or one cupcake, or dished out the ice cream and not eaten a full pint. I know this, and I can learn from this.

This also is evidence of the "group think" described in the book Mindless Eating--namely, you're likely to eat similar food to what the group you're with is eating.

The thing that's even more frustrating is that Monday when I got home, I munched and munched and then had leftover pizza for dinner. So I feel like this week is going to be all about playing catchup and not letting my mind throw the entire week away because of these situations.

IN THE PAST, I would have let these last three days dictate the rest of the week. NOW, I know that each food choice I make is in my own control and saving 4 days is better than not.

So, back to basics.