Counting Calories is an Eating Disorder

Sigh, THANK YOU for saying it out loud. Dr Eenfeldt.

I noticed the comments defending counting.  We always defend our eating disorder, for without it, we are lost.  I cracked a big wry smile seeing the trend for Paleoist’s to be counting calories.  I was very into Paleo before it became commercial.  You don’t need a book or a plan or a list to eat paleo.  Ray Audette had it right the first time, you don’t have to cook food to eat it, but if it is not edible raw, it’s not supposed to be eaten to begin with.  How simple is that? 

I made the decision to stop blogging about my ED and my binges and my personal life frustrations and let go of it all in favour of the positive influence of eating from a bowl.  I am moving blog once more to attempt to stay on the path I once strived for and keep getting side tracked from.  I am finding myself stuck here in and endless cycle and clinging to the ED persona too much for any chance of allowing my sense of wellbeing to develop.

Find me here, if you are still interested in the bowl project and eating from it.  I plan on making it a more pleasant haven than this rant and raving blog has been.  I promise, no more diet/eating/bowl blogs after this one, if I can’t make a go of it, I will quit altogether.



indian copper serving bowl - Bing Images - Opera_2013-01-06_13-14-40

I found information on my copper bowl.  It is the most common serving bowl in Indian households, usually holding lentils, curries, puddings or liquid based foods.  How exciting, I suspected it was a curry bowl.  wish I had the lid.

I have been thinking of changing the name of the blog, to a more general bowl term, as I may yet continue to delve into bowl fetish lol.

Much Bowl Musing Today


As I continue to test out the new copper bowl, I muse on the comparisons to the pewter porringer and the bowls I have used in the past.  There was a time when a bowl would have been a bowl and nothing more.  Now I see the vast differences in bowls and how they affect my connections to eating.  I never realised the relationship before I started eating exclusively from one. 

I have always been a visual person, so the beauty of an object is has been more important than the utility of it.  At first, I sought heavy pottery bowls, rough with dripping glaze.  I loved the look of them, the feel of permanence by their weight and thickness.  I have found bowls that had an element of amusement, one having cat ears on the rim.  I loved the feel of heavy restaurant ware, thick with a smooth white glaze.  I then started moving towards the idea of permanence.  I imagined that if the bowl were to become so exclusive that I would only eat from my own personal bowl, I would need to carry it with me.  The idea of metal bowls became appealing.

Pewter is a soft metal, so it tarnished and scratches easily.  It has a simple charm I really like, and antique pieces bring in a new dimension of having a history.  Metal bowls are not as easy to hold in the hand with very hot or cold foods, often I have had to use a hot pad or keep the bowl on the table.  While in Hawaii, I found a stainless steel double walled rice bowl that I loved, it fit in the hand and was so easy to eat from.  It was very thin steel though and eventually a tiny crack allowed water to enter the compartment and it became a problem.  I am sure this new double walled bowl will not have the same issue, it is so much heavier and the edge is well sealed.

There is a different feel to the new bowl and the old mug.  It is always a nicer to sip with a curved rim on a cup, creating a natural seal with one’s lip and the curved edge.  The mug has a nice flair to the edge and I found myself enjoying that smooth curve against my lips.  The white china cup I have been using does not have that, making coffee drip down the side of the cup as I drink.  The curve to the edge of the copper bowl allows my thumb to have a resting place while supporting the bowl in my hand.  I realized that if I had soup in the copper bowl or some pan juices, I could easily sip from the bowl.  Funny to notice these things, even stranger to write them down. 


I know it looks to be a mess, lunch yesterday was some leftover spinach, salami, smoked gouda and a few cocktail size sausages.  I wanted to use the leftovers before opening any new foods.  Seeing the bowl was only half full, I was wondered if it would be enough food to eat, but it was plenty.  I am still trying to get back to three bowls a day, but lately I am succumbing to snacking at evening coffee.  It’s become a habit since the holidays, one I need to break instantly.  Husband brought home more chocolates, which when presented to me, I usually have 3.  We stayed up until midnight again, so I had some unsalted raw peanuts for the hunger.  I am not a big peanut fan, so a handful (in the shell) are enough.  Dinner was chicken and parsnips.

I don’t feel as though I am eating too much but lately I feel huge and heavy.  By evening my legs and ankles are massive.  I am not happy about it at all and think I need to take a ketogenic dive and fast.  FINALLY husband will be working a full work week and I hope to take a deep plunge into as low carb as I can get, to see if I can shed this massive fluid retention.

I have had a reader ask me how to eat various foods in a bowl, so I thought I would write about that today.  I generally eat food that has been cut up previously, in an Asian style, I suppose, a mixture of meat and veggies for the most part.  Cutting up the food makes it easier to eat with a fork, spoon or chopsticks.  Sometimes I prefer to layer the food, so that I might have meat on the bottom, add some veggies on top and then some salad on top of that.  This way the salad is eaten first and stays fairly cold as there isn’t a lot of it.  This layering works when I want a sauce on the meat, but not particularly on the veggies (keeping the meat and sauce on the bottom layer).  Since I don’t eat breads (unless on a binge) I don’t deal with it bowl-wise, but I would imagine that a bagel or donut or a round roll would fit fine in most bowls.  Other odd shaped foods could be cut up, for instance, I suppose a slice of pizza could be cut in two and placed in the bowl. Part of the process is to discover how you feel and react to the confines of the bowl. 

The bowl is merely a representation of the stomach and what it can hold comfortably.  It is a marvellous teacher of the concept of enough.  It creates a process that is connected, such as choosing the bowl, finding the bowl pleasing, washing the bowl by hand, returning to the bowl for nourishment time and time again.  There is a natural mindfulness that is present when eating exclusively from the bowl that cannot be found on a plate or out of a bag or package.  The bowl is a challenge to ED who cannot stand the idea that maybe what can fit in the bowl to eat is actually enough.  ED is a glutton, wants no limitations, no restrictions, just hedonistic gorging.  The bowl can be filled more that once, but that re-fill is something we cannot help but notice and that is part of mindful eating.  Awareness.  The bowl causes natural awareness to the challenges of eating from it.

Trying to figure out what to put in the bowl and how to make it fit is the first challenge.  The decisions about how often to eat from it is another.  The work of maintaining a relationship with the bowl and the food inside it soon becomes apparent.  It’s all in what you put into it and what you get out of it that matters, and it will be a different experience for anyone who tries it.

Some people have commented that it is a great portion control method to eat from a bowl.  And I will say that it is true.  But there is so much more to it than just that.  I have tried portion control plates, divided sectioned plates and smaller plates, but none of them created a nurturing effect that a bowl does.  I think it has to do with the intimate shape, the way it fits into a hand and feels more a part of the eating experience.  I have never been able to feel the plate sitting on a table is a part of eating, it just looks like a way to keep the food from making a mess on the table.  It is separate from me, it is not held.  The same as eating with a knife and fork, it may be socially acceptable and all, but cutting up food with utensils on a plate is distant, remote, unconnected. 

I need the connection.  The long years of dieting and bingeing have caused a disconnect between me and food and the act of eating.  To hide my shame in bingeing, I became a secretive eater, hiding food, eating alone, pretending that I did not eat that much.  I caused myself horrid social situations because I was on a strict diet.  Food became an enemy and I was so miserable.  The bowl brought back a chance at a positive experience with eating, a nurturing gift of love towards myself.  Since the bowl, my stomach has gotten use to less and I think that has helped severely reduce the mass consumption binges to overeating episodes.  Eventually, I am hoping to drop bingeing altogether as I continue to find peace from eating from a simple bowl.


Copper Bowl

Yesterday’s Meals:

Porringer 1-     2 eggs, 2 rashers, 2 cup coffee with 4 tsp double cream
Binge-        2 pots of tea, 2 rolls (one with butter, one with butter and cheese), 1/4 small bag tortilla crisps, 5 bread sticks, 6 chocolate chip cookies
Porringer 2-     glass of wine, minced beef, cauliflower with butter

Evening coffee- 2 cup coffee with 4 tsp double cream, 3 chocolates, 5 breadsticks

I already wrote about the sorta-kinda binge yesterday so I will move on from that.  It was wasted effort, I became aware of just how bloated I am, how massively I am retaining fluids.  I took off my socks last evening and was shocked to see the indentation, I have not had it that bad for a long time.  So even while the binge was not huge, the side affects are enough to scare me into dropping it as soon as possible.

The copper bowl.  I had left it on the kitchen counter in plain view.  I knew it would be a bit of an issue, spending money on yet another bowl, but I did not want to hide it.  After dinner, while I was playing the medication charades, husband did the dishes and washed it.  I had eaten out of the porringer for dinner, so that this morning I decided to just get it over with (a new policy I am working on) and put my breakfast in the copper bowl and set it on the table.  He looked at it and said nothing.  During breakfast, I had the strong urge to pick it up and hold it in the palm of my hand while eating, so I did.  I loved how it felt, the weight of the warm bowl, the nurturing aspect of eating from the hand rather than the table.  Husband looked up and saw what I am sure his traditionalist’s mind saw as bad table manners to eat this way.  I ignored it and continued to eat, really sensing the return of an old friend.  I use to eat this way and feel so peaceful.  The shape and feel of a bowl really is far more important that the look.  I glanced over at the pewter bowl and admired how pretty it is, but it lacks connectedness.  Wow, am I really writing like this?  lol.  Me, the stoic?  I sound like a tree hugger these days!


This morning’s breakfast aftermath. Husband finally made a comment about the new bowl when we finished eating: found yourself a new bowl? I smiled and said, you know I have a bowl fetish.  I immediately said it was bigger than the other bowl and he immediately said that was a good thing, it made no sense to eat too little and be hungry.  Which made me smile again, because I know it has bothered him to see the bowl size difference between us.  This bowl is deep and appears larger than the porringer and so it is like another little secret between me and the bowl.  That double walled insulation gives the bowl a mightier look.  Husband is still using the plate he used on the truck, deep enough to keep the food from slipping off the plate.  The large rim gives it a much larger look without really holding that much more.  He eats the same foods as I do (larger portions), only potatoes are added to his bowl that I do not eat.  it seemed a settled issue for now, so I no longer feel I need to break the bowl news to him.


I drank tea out of the stainless steel mug last night and will try that a few more times.  The mug holds 1 1/2 of the cups of liquid of the cup above.  This means I could drop the 2 cups of coffee twice a day down by one whole cup, which means a savings on the cream too.  I have been wanting to cut the coffee down a bit, this may be a better idea for now.  Baby steps of change, I guess.

I tried looking for more of these type bowls for information on them but haven’t found anything yet.  It does not appear to be vintage, the inner surface is not scratched up from frequent use.  It doesn’t have the potential history of my French porringer, but it sure has a nice balance to it, a more inviting look and it is marvellous. 

Doctors, Prescriptions, Copper Bowls and Anxieties Up the Wahzoo

Deep Breath.

Today was a whirlwind for me, something that I need to sort out in my mind.

This morning, I nearly cancelled the car hire a few times, thinking to postpone it until another day.  Why?  Because of the need to push the unfamiliar, the unknown away thinking that I will be able to deal with it better at another time.  This is critical for me to look at in the glaring light of discomfort.  I binge eat or drink a bit too much to do the same thing, postpone dealing with that which makes me squirm.  I had to literally force myself to go to the hospital in an unfamiliar town and see the doctor.  I reminded myself that if I didn’t, I would have to once again go through the squirmies, and why not just get it over with?

I have not seen this type of doctor in a long time and I was a little wide eyed about it because of that.  I knew I possibly had a condition that warranted a specialist, but at the same time, I did not want to know it.  It wouldn’t be the end of the world, but it’s not exactly something one would wish to have.  Another condition of aging.

The driver for the car hire (in the UK a hackney cab can pick one up on the street, but a car hire is ordered in advance, they can only drive people about on a direct request) came promptly on time and was very kind and that helped me relax a bit.  He knew where to go, which building of the hospital and although I was a bit apprehensive to enter a hospital, I soon found the ward with the doctor I needed to see and checked in.  The doctor was amazing and really kind and did not treat me like a child nor made me feel like a number. He had a wonderful sense of humour and decided to make me learn how to pronounce a few Scottish words correctly. He really eased my anxiety in no time at all.  But the diagnosis was as I suspected and I was not happy about it at all.  Luckily it did not come as a shock.  I am to return in April for a follow up visit and he will determine at that time if a biopsy is needed.

Part of the anxiety is all the first times of learning how they do everything here and it is different in so many weird little ways.  At the GP, there is a screen in the waiting room where my name will appear and tell me what room to go to.  I have to find the GP’s room on my own. No nurse comes out to get me.  At the hospital, the doctor came to get me in the waiting room.  Both places, I am asked to undress and they stay in the room as I take my clothes off and put them back on. 

I  ended up needing a prescription, so let me mention how that works.  The specialist wrote up a hand written letter and stuck a bar code sticker on it and put it into an envelope and handed it to me.  He said to take it either to my GP or the chemist.  I stopped at the chemist after I got home and they said it had to go to my GP first and they would provide the medication.  I thought how odd, that the GP would dispense the medication.  I went to the GP and they took the letter and told me to come back after 3pm.  I came back at that time and it wasn’t ready.  They said to come back before 6pm.  I did, and they handed me a printout form for the medication.  By this time I was irritable and I had to take another deep breath or I was going to spout some displeasure at the roundabout I was going through.

I asked what was I do do with this (I was fairly sure it was to go to the chemist, but I wasn’t about to miss the mark late on a Friday).  The doctor stressed he wanted me on the medication as soon as possible.  So I angrily walked once more to the chemist and waited for them to fill it, but they did not have enough and I am to come back tomorrow for the rest.  I got a little piece of paper that says OWING NOTICE, which I guess is like an IOU.  I sure did miss the American way of the doctor phoning the medication directly to the pharmacy.  Sigh.  It literally took me all day to get this one appointment done.  But I was relieved when all was finally over. 

Even so, there was plenty of stress overload and I did pop into the shop and bought three rolls, a small tray of breadsticks, 6 chocolate chip cookies (bakery style) and a small bag of tortilla chips.  I ate two of the rolls, a few breadsticks and some of the tortilla chips.  I ate all of the cookies, felt overly full after downing two pots of tea and was about to hide the leftovers, when I decided not to.  No, I had a unnerving day and I am not going to change my binge behaviour as long as I continue to hide it.  I took another mega huge deep breath and prepared myself to tell husband about the money I took out for the car hire, the hospital visit, the diagnosis, the extra food I ate and be honest about all of it to prevent further stress.  I did tell him all, including the fears I experienced and it was an enormous sense of release.  He did not day a negative word about any of it, was comforting and low and behold, brought home chocolates and candy, his day was stressful too. 




These were taken from my new mobile phone, wow, so crisp and clear compared to my regular camera!  This was one of the buildings at the Royal Alexandra Hospital that I went to today.  It was a nice mild day and I wished to take a walk amongst these trees, but I was waiting for the car hire.

Also, as I was waiting on the prescription to be filled, I popped into a charity shop and found a bowl I could not resist. I think it is a serving bowl, perhaps for an Indian restaurant, as it is copper on the outside and stainless steel on the inside, and there is an insulating space between the two layers. The bowl fits wonderfully in the hand, which is one thing I have missed about using the porringer, is that it has a rimmed bottom and is uncomfortable to hold and there is no heat protection, I have to place it on a mat sometimes to prevent marring the table.  In Hawaii, I ate from a round bottom stainless steel rice bowl that was insulated and I loved holding it and using chopsticks.  There is a connected feeling about eating out of hand, and as I held this copper bowl in the shop, I instantly felt an attachment to it.  It was £4, I shouldn’t have spent the money after the £20 I spent on car hire and the £3 I spent on junk foods, but I wanted it badly.  I have a thing for bowls, I know.


Here it is compared to the pewter porringer.  I also grabbed the insulated Quantas Airlines mug I drank from for a year because it seemed to go well with the new shiny bowl.


Fitting ever so nicely in the hand, I smiled to remember this feeling.  How nice to be able to eat hot or cold foods without feeling it in the hand. 


Here you can see how round the bottom is.  It is heavy and well made, which is why I think it may be restaurant ware.


Hard to see, but I filled the pewter porringer with water and dumped it in this bowl to check the volume.  This bowl does hold a bit more, I place the tip of the spoon handle at the water level.  About half an inch more to fill to the first rim.

I ate dinner from the pewter and plan on trying the copper bowl tomorrow at lunch time when I can use my chopsticks and eat away from the table, with the bowl in hand.  I am pretty excited about it!

Fear Induces Weirdness

Wednesday’s Meals:

Porringer 1- 2 eggs, 2 rashers, 2 cup coffee with 4 tsp double cream
Porringer 2- pot of tea, variety of cheeses and salami
Porringer 3&4- glass of wine, minced beef, cauliflower with  butter (whole porringer full)

Evening coffee- 2 cup coffee with 4 tsp double cream, 2 humbugs
1 whisky

It was going to be a trial coming off the holiday foods and moods and swing into eating regular foods and begin the 3 meals a day thing.  Husband failed by 9am and I ended the day with humbugs and whisky, both of which I did not need, nor felt a pull towards, but you know, that ED thing prevails, where there is just a bit left and wanting to be done with it.  I did not like the mind-set of it, I could have put the last shot of whisky back in the cupboard and thrown the 2 pieces of candy left in the bin.  I sort of enjoyed it and did not feel it was worthy of being called anything negative like a binge.  I note that I am still not liking to drink as I did before, as soon as I was done, I felt yucked by it.

It’s been raining and the mood sort of listless between us.  He is slyly mentioning jobs he finds on the net, as though he were job hunting for himself and it becomes an opportunity to push me into acknowledging it.  He was looking out the window, a lady who uses carers walked by, he makes a comment that they appear to be new carers and asks in the most innocent possible voice ”isn’t that what you are interested in doing?”  I took a deep breath and told him one needs to be certified.

Dinner conversation is getting tense for me, as he will start talking about moving closer to his job to save money, or make a comment about the rise in transportation costs and how he doubts there is much work for him at his age in Denmark, all which have the intended affect of making me squirm in my seat, the subject of JOBS ever so present.  I could stomp the whole thing by just saying I will start looking for work once the holidays are over, but something in me refuses to respond to the pushing.  I will do it in my own time and I do not want to have to report back to him or get advice about it or deal with having to tell him of all the rejections I will be getting.  I bought a 2013 calendar to mark all of my applications in and if he gets out of hand I can throw it at him.  There is no need for me to be feisty about it all, but the feelings of resentment are brewing.

He is struggling to get back on his eating regime and I am aware that I need to be gentle and kind and as supportive as I can be without mothering.   Both of us are feeling a bit on edge, so much rain, darkness and the end of the holidays are surely affecting us.  I hear him sighing often knowing he returns to work tomorrow and I sigh each time I have to prepare meals or wash dishes, the tumultuous 2012 is now done and in some ways, I think it is harder for husband to not have active planning to do. 

Thursday’s Meals:

Porringer 1- 2 eggs, 2 rashers, 2 cup coffee with 4 tsp double cream
Porringer 2- pot of tea, pork cracklings, raw peanuts
Porringer 3- various cheeses, salami, hot cocoa
Porringer 4- glass of wine, 2 cumberlands, brussel sprouts
Evening coffee- 2 cup coffee with 4 tsp double cream, 2 humbugs

Yesterday I got a call from the clinic that said an appointment had been cancelled and if I wanted it, it was the next morning (today) at 9am.  I said yes before I found out it was at a hospital in another town I have not been to before and it is a significantly large town.  I looked at the bus routes, figured that two buses would be needed and since I have no visual reference point of having been in that town, I called a car hire and decided to go with it even though it was so expensive.  Then I got another call a couple of hours later and was told I did not qualify for NHS care, and I demanded to know why.  The receptionist said I had to be employed to receive care, and I asked, what if I was retired?  Does that mean I would never receive health care again?  She had to check on that.  So after a few phone calls, she called back to say it was a mistake and I do qualify.  In the meantime, of course I am livid and wasted a good 4 hours of my day being upset FOR NO REASON.  Gads.

Of course, it got husband all worked up and he looked up the requirements and printed it out that as a legal resident, I am indeed qualified and told me to fold it and stick it in my purse in case I needed it.  I decided to break the ice with the working situation as I could not stand any more stress.  I handed him the calendar to see my job hunting notes.  I had applied for 7 jobs yesterday and wrote them down.  He was pleased.  So now that stupid thing between us is out in the open.  I will have to tell him tonight though, that it cost about £20 for me to get to and from the hospital, but I really need this appointment with a specialist and if I have to go again, I will at least have a better sense of where it is and will attempt to take a bus.  He is stressed about money, so I am not looking forward to telling him I cost £20 today, his unemployed expensive wife. 

In all my stress yesterday, I felt the overwhelming urge to binge.  It was like I suddenly did not have control and that is when Ed swooped in to reassure me that I surely didn’t.  He urged and urged me.  I quickly ate low carb foods, with two small transgressions into mild sweetness with low sugar cocoa and 2 hard candies.  It helped soothe without a high cost, but ED was whispering in my ear, go to the shops, splurge, go ahead….  However, by evening, I was so spent from the day, that I swore (or maybe it was all ED) that I would binge the next day to my hearts content, cancelling the appointment to deal with another day.  I think it was mostly because I do fear the results of the appointment and this was an easy out to postpone it.  But before I fell asleep, I talked myself back to reason, I now have health care, so use it to stay healthy.  Sheesh.  Relax, calm down, breathe.

I won’t be able to take car hire’s every time I get a job interview, so I will have to learn the bus system.  I only know how to get to the city centre of Glasgow at this point.  It’s intimidating.  I use to be so adventurous, now I feel fear doing anything outside my comfort zone.  How strange. Sometimes the fear makes everything seem odd and out of sorts, like this photo.  This is how I feel in Scotland right now. 

Gilbert Kerr, bagpiper, with penguin Photographed by William Speirs Bruce during the Scottish National Antarctic Expedition, 1902-04

New Years Eve Meals

Yesterday’s Meals:

Porringer 1- 2 eggs, 2 rashers, 2 cup coffee with 4 tsp. double cream
Porringer 2- pot of tea, pot of pate
Porringer 3- 2 glasses of wine, baked cod fish, melted butter, creamed spinach

Evening coffee- 2 cup coffee with 4 tsp double cream, small dark chocolate bar
11pm: assorted cheeses, salami, whisky

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Husband’s lamb chops, my cod. 

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Nothing happened in our little burgh last night to celebrate Hogmanay.  Nada.  At least not on the streets, there may have been lots of private parties.  The idiot in the flat below us who hollers in a drunken rage nearly every evening, kept his appointed time, but it seemed not to have anything to do with Hogmanay.  There were no people on the streets, the pub across from us had few people lounging outside for their smokes.  We stayed up until 11:45 and went to bed out of pure boredom laced with the tiredness that comes in middle age.  These late night holidays lose their lustre.

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Irish coffee and chocolate.

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I had an interesting experience yesterday, I had a ho-hum reaction to drinking whisky.  I drank some in my coffee, then had a glass with a film because I had looked forward to it.  I sipped it slowly and felt that it was rough and not as delightful of a taste as I use to think it was.  I sort of enjoyed it, but more in a celebratory way and not because I really wanted it.  I am not sure what I am trying to say, but it seems booze has lost it’s exalted status in my mind.

The chocolate too was good, fine and melty rich, but one bite made me nearly recoil.  I thought to myself, these treats that have been revered and coveted have somehow lost their magical appeal.  What I really thoroughly enjoyed the most yesterday was the cod with melted butter and the cheese and salami.  Those foods made me smile inside.  I never thought I would feel that way about booze or chocolate.  I knew it was more than just this experience, because the last few times I had these things, I felt the same way.  After the two shots of whisky, I felt it’s roughness and had a stop inner STOP.  So I did. It seems my body didn’t want it either.  Is this all an aging thing?  Does nature step in and make us protect ourselves from stuff we no longer have use of?  Husband was amazed when he saw the bottle still had whisky in it this morning.

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Husband was in last supper mode yesterday, snack eating nearly all day and again right after dinner.  He was so stuffed he moaned.  Before we fell asleep, we talked about what to do and I said the best laid foundation is to eat three meals a day and drop the between meal eating completely.  I believe it’s best to continue to adjust the three meals until they work, whether to feel better nutritionally, or to maintain weight or even to lose weight.  It’s the simplest form of managed eating there can be.  Easy peasy.  He agreed but he has two more days off of work and there is ice cream in the freezer and candy in the cupboard and he will be struggling.  I am sure he will find his momentum, but I know what it is like for days after overeating, it is so hard to get that dragon back to sleep.

This morning, we had our usual breakfast and watched the rain.

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It is 9am and you can see how dark it is.  It will get this dark around 3pm too.   

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That is husband’s chair, mine has a red shawl over the back.  It is where I sit when writing here, for the most part, my little world.  We don’t watch TV (or have one) so husband puts BBC news on and we can see it from the table.    Some day this desk set will be in a den and we can have a couple of leather comfortable sitting chairs again.  I miss having a reading place.

If you are interested in history, the kitchen area was originally two bed closets, one facing this room and the other facing the back room.  Where the desk back is, was the fireplace.  This was the main room.  Our bedroom was the large kitchen.  These old flats were all designed the same, and we see the same set up in the flats we look at all over Scotland.  Husband is determined to move this year north, to be closer to work.  We’ll see what happens.  If I start work here, it may not be necessary to move.  If I don’t find work, he wants to save on the train fare.

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I have continued to give it a lot of thought about any changes I might want to do for 2013, and there are a few small ones.  I noticed for quite some time that my habit of drinking two cups of coffee is more ingrained than it is a desire for it.  I often sip the second cup and wonder why I am drinking it.  I am getting a STOP about it more often than not, so I am going to experiment with just serving myself one cup.

I had also been giving thought to my carbohydrate intake and my diabetes.  I am out of test strips and can no longer monitor my blood sugar readings.  When I was at the doctor’s, she tested and said I was fine.  While I do binge on sweets, my normal everyday diet is pretty low in carbs.  My highest carbs come from the wine, carrots, sausages and sauces.  I thought about getting back to a ketogenic level, but I still have to tread water in this realm, it can so easily spark reactive crap, like soon wanting to count, weigh, compare, log data, create charts…..and the usual resentment builds, the panic sets in and creates rules and more restrictions and soon I am back in the clutches of ED and his lurid seductions. 

I think it is best to focus not so much about what I put in my porringer but more on the number of times I fill it a day.  I think I would like to stick to three and as I suggested to husband, learn to adjust the amount and type of food to make it work.  I have already mentioned this idea several times in my posts, but I am still trying to sort it in my head so that I grasp the truth of it and not just create a rule to be easily messed with.