Younger Than Spring Time

I just wrote a long drawn out sob story about my mediocre life because I was about to turn 58 and feeling as old as the hills.  How pathetic is this you ask?  Pathetic enough to figure out that I was not 57 for the past year, I was 56!  I am turning 57 and where on earth did I gain a year I did not live?  This happened once before, when I was 30 for two years in a row and didn’t realise it until someone pointed out that my 30th birthday was yet to happen.  I sit here stunned at the ability of my mind to take such a negative slant at aging that I am convinced I am older than I am! Geez, what a putz.

 

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With that brain fart out of the way, the depression I was gearing up in my head for next week is moot.  I am a year younger than I thought and can kick up my heels for a change.  Never mind that all my expressions are age revealing and culturally mixed up.

 

I still have my bottle of port nicely and secretively hidden away.  I did not have to hide it, I could have it any time I wish to.  I wanted to hide it, so that it felt like a little present to myself, something just for me that I do not need to share with anyone.  I plan on drinking it all day on my birthday, probably making me tipsy by dinner time, but I don’t care.   The plan so far is for me to buy a dessert and 3 bottles of Guinness and husband will bring home some fab local fish and chips that we love but have only had twice in the last 6 months.  They are the best I have ever tasted and we are keeping it as a rare treat.  I have been thinking of getting ice cream, and perhaps a slice of cake from the bakery. Nice that we don’t have to buy a whole cake. 

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Our first fish and chips from our street last May.  We split this meal.

 

What I really much rather write about is how the last few days have been going, because I feel as though the small triumphs are worth noting and keeping in perspective.  I cannot cease to amaze myself with this whole 3 meal a day success.  It’s too utterly simple and more daunting than one would think.  Any sort of restricting is sure to set up a rebellion at some point, but I am finding that it is like having a life-ring, it stabilizes my eating like nothing else ever has.  I feel good, I feel nourished, I feel less inclined to obsess over food and eating in-between meals.  Just knowing that I have the solid structure of three bowls of food a day, that the next meal is tolerably within a reasonable time frame and that when I go to bed at night, my thoughts are not about berating myself for having binged or eaten the wrong foods.

 

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After breakfast this morning.

I still refuse to restrict or define what goes in my bowl, because I need the focus to be on the structure of eating and not on calories or carbs.  This whole method must be about how it feels to my body, how my mind processes the thoughts about it and not about food rules.  One rule, the three meals is the only rule I want in place.  It works!  I am beginning to feel hunger again and that is wonderful!  Not the wild hard hunger of starvation, simply the mild reminder that it is time to eat.  As it should be.  That’s the key for me…as it should be.  Stability, predictability and knowing it feels right.

 

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Kebab meat, meatballs, carrots, onion, apple, peppers, curry spices

 

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chicken breast, peppers, onion, brussel sprouts

 

I am still opting for my foods to stay simple, meats, veggies, eggs, cheese, lard, butter and double cream.  Husband adds potatoes and dark dense rye bread to his meals, and we still share one glass of wine with dinner.  We rarely drink fizzy drinks, tea and coffee are the main drinks. As each day passes, as each day proves to feel good, I am more inclined to try another.  I think the most significant change I made this week was breaking the the mid-morning eating frenzy by dropping the tea at that time.  After getting the housework done, midmorning was the time I made a pot of tea and have a snack while watching East Enders, Coronation Street, Emmerdale, The Paradise and River City.  I looked so forward to this indulgent time of the day, it was nearly impossible to stop the desire to make it even more of a private party with teacakes, crisps or buns.  So now, I wait until lunch to watch the soaps and have my tea.  This way, I get to eat and watch, have my beloved tea and it’s all okay.   Contentness abounds, as husband would say.

 

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