Friday, April 20, 2007

The Brownie Oath

My daughter has to memorize an Oath for Brownies. I've come up with my own version:
"On my honor, I will try
to avoid brownies and other binge foods,
to help keep my weight under control
and to live a long, healthy life."

My husband called in sick yesterday because he felt nauseous and fevered. This was actually a positive for me because I had to get my newsletter done, and it meant I could stay at work later and not rush home to let the puppies out.

However. When I did get home at 2, I walked into the Torture Chamber -- the house freakin' reeked of fresh baked brownies!

"What did you do???" I looked at him in horror. He replied he was craving them and decided to whip up a batch. ( I later noticed that he also baked a rising-dough pizza and ate 3/4 of that, too. I guess the nausea had passed.)

"Are you trying to torture me, or make sure I'm massively obese forever?" I queried, then stopped and shook my head. "Scratch that. I know you weren't even thinking about me when you made them."

Here's the rub. While I'm glad I said it, I knew it didn't get across like it should have. On the surface I was saying I knew he didn't bake the brownies to intentionally sabotage me. But on the other hand, I wish he would think about something other than his cravings -- namely, some consideration for me. I have been very vocal about getting myself back on track this week, but apparently that didn't come up in his mind as he baked these little binge bombs.

Last night I managed to stay away from them, but it was horribly tough. I wound up getting one of my Vitalicious VitaBrownies out of the freezer and ate that instead. I figured I'd at least get some fiber and nutrients, and it did keep me from attacking the unhealthy ones.

This morning, though, I was still haunted by those damn little things. So as Hubby was heading out the door I handed him the brownie container and said, "You don't have to give these away, but keep them in your truck or something, because I can't have them in the house. If they're here I won't just eat one, I'll eat all of them. It's an illness." I don't know how I could have gotten more succinct about it.

Hubby was fine with this request, and when I brought up the word illness, he replied, "Hey, I'm the one who made them," insinuating he's the one with the illness. He then got very revealing and said, "If I could find a good hypnotist, I'd go to one. Every night I think to myself I have to do something, and every day it doesn't happen."

God bless him, I've certainly been there, and it's hard. I wish I could give him a pill, a book, a plan that would give him the magical "click" that happens when it all falls into place. Like I've said before, if I had that I'd be a billionaire. But the truth is, I've even had the "click" and it can still go away and be very difficult to recapture.

My de-bloating slowed down a lot this morning, which makes me believe what's left is what I actually gained over my blow-out. Pretty depressing, because I basically wiped out a whole winter's hard work in what, 10 days, two weeks?

It's difficult not to think, "Why bother? I bust my hump for four months and I'm right where I started!" But let's face hard facts-- if I hadn't stayed vigilant this past winter I could have easily gained 20, 30, even 40 pounds. That sounds extreme but I know my past history. So I basically wound up maintaining my loss from the end of December. That's an accomplishment in itself, in my eyes.

Of course, I'm still in the middle of my TOTM, so I could still have some water retention hanging on and the actual regain isn't as bad as I think. Even though it's Friday I am fully motivated to stay on track this weekend because of that Monday doctor's appointment. I am bound and determined to not be horrified and ashamed when the nurse weighs me in, so there's simply no other option than to stay mindful. As of right now I don't have any parties or events going on to tempt me, although I doubt I can escape the Sunday dinner with the in-laws. Such is life.


Mari said...

I so identify with this post. My husband is 6 ft 2 inches and only about 15 pounds overweight. He can (and does) eat anything he wants.

At times I get really ticked off at him because he keeps bringing stuff home that he KNOWS I can't eat. Even when I've told him a million times "I can't eat stuff like that," he always says, "Oh, yeah, I forgot."

Even the 100-calorie pack cookies and cupcakes I won't allow in the house. Sure, it's 100 calories, but if I eat the whole box it's 600 calories. And a lot of guilt.

When I make dessert for the family, I make it low-fat. For example, I use applesauce instead of oil, and fake eggs instead of real. But, it doesn't matter how good it might be for me, it's always not eating the entire thing that's the problem.

It's hard. I know. I'm right there in the same place as you.

Vickie said...

This post made me think of my GP - heart problems - severe back problems - morbidly obese. Every time I gently say something to him - because he is in the Opr@h category and can afford to hire someone to feed him, come to his house and train/make him exercise - he says - "every day, I get up and think - today is the day and every day - it is not."