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Formerly obese mom overcoming body-image issues and ailments with a healthy mix of self-depreciation and determination.

Thursday, April 5, 2012

Now Sugartime Is Anytime.

(song: Sugartime/artist: McGuire Sisters)
 
Well folks, tomorrow is Good Friday. You know what that means?

LENT IS OVER!

I gave up booze and sweets for Lent. I’m happy to report that I survived. The booze thing is something that I do every year. Because, let’s face it, if I can’t quit drinking for 40 days and 40 nights, that’s a way bigger problem than being a few pounds overweight. No, for me, the sweets were a way harder addiction to abandon in the name of religious fasting. You may have heard me mention, I LOVE cake, candy, icing…SUGAR. 

This pretty much sums it up...

And frankly, I was getting a little too comfortable with my sweet tooth. Justifying a nightly dive into the low-fat/low-sugar frozen treats, which were all-too-often followed up by multiple visits to the dried fruits. Not that either is awful, but, every day, in less-than-moderate quantities, is not a treat, it’s a habit. And my habit needed to be reigned in. But before I went on the wagon, I went out with a bang.


Valentine’s night 2012: I ordered my husband to come home with milk-chocolate covered caramel. (Sorry chocolate snobs, I prefer milk to dark chocolate. I like sweet, and I don’t buy into the “dark chocolate is healthy” shtick. I don’t want healthy sweets. I WANT SUGAR!) I would have happily settled for Rolos or a Milky Way bar. But my husband kept it classy and brought me a box of truffles from Godiva. Eight of the aforementioned milk chocolate/caramel variety, and eight assorted milk chocolates. So that night, I ate four of the choco/caramels and four of the assorted truffles. EIGHT enormous and crazy sweet, chocolates. The remaining goodies were stashed away, to be enjoyed during the days leading up to Ash Wednesday. On Fat Tuesday, I ate every sweet I encountered. I devoured my Godiva truffles like a professional competitive eater. Then I polished off a Hershey Bar I had stashed in the fridge. I felt sick, but I was officially ready for Lent. And guess what...it’s almost over. I made it, and I’m feeling pretty good about my sugar-free sojourn.



I even survived a few really challenging encounters with my old flame, sugar. On St. Patrick’s Day we went to a party that had plenty of booze and a table full of cakes, candies, chocolates and cookies. That was pretty torturous, but I kept saying, in my crazy head, “I don’t love cupcakes more than I love my body”. And there it was…the willpower to walk away from the table of temptation. Also, on my birthday, my son insisted I have a cupcake. I told him he could have one for me. He was happy to oblige. And even happier to let me watch him eat it. Little bastard. 


My pal Kim said it best: "Such a wonderful sacrifice from your loving son."

But that too, passed. Because, I DO NOT LOVE CAKE MORE THAN I LOVE MY BODY! Lent is almost over. I will not celebrate its end by diving headfirst into a vat of icing. Though that does sound delicious. On Saturday, I will go out to dinner with my husband for a belated birthday celebration. I will have a drink. I will most certainly have dessert. And then on Monday, I’ll go right back to my usual routine of healthy eating and daily exercise, and a three-day Shakeology cleanse to flush the Easter weekend toxins away.  And unlike last year, when I completely blew it, I know I possess the willpower to resist the Easter candy my mother-in-law will have “for her grandson”.  (Though, Gram, if he pukes…) It’s my thing, you know, staying fit, being active, being healthy, and taking care of the body I’ve worked so hard to transform. I’m invested in this for life.

During Lent, I kicked my leg workouts into high gear and have lost half an inch of my left thigh (the bigger of the two), a quarter inch off my right thigh and one inch from my hips. Yes, I measure myself! I measure and weigh myself, once a month. It’s how I stay successful and accountable and honest.

And those kind of results taste so much better than jelly beans.

...and all I got was this lousy t-shirt.

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