My Addiction, Not My Excuse
Manchego. Cotswold. Gouda. Roquefort. Harvati. Mozzarella. Feta. Pepperjack. Parmesan...
I can keep going, those are all somehow my favorite. Just before I pop a bite of one of those lovelies in my mouth, my body reacts in ways I cannot truly comprehend. My pulse speeds up, my focus hones in, my mouth salivates and then I bite and am satiated. For a moment or two at least.
I love cheese, all kinds. I like it nutty, creamy, soft, stinky, crumbly, flaky smooth, firm, aged...and before I embarrass myself further by showing you I obviously like it all-in any and every way possible I'll stop as I think you get the point.
The problem is, I enjoy all types, paired with everything, and have a hard time with moderation.
Like all food for me, cheese is not just a treat or a splurge, it is a task, a contemplation, a tease, a decision. It is a battle of the wills. I am thirty freaking years old and still have a hard time comprehending one portion size. I indulge too much, too frequently, and to say I struggle with moderation is quite the understatement.
I was doing so good eating right and losing weight last year. I felt I had finally hit my turning point. Even though I am educated, even though I know better, even though I have shown myself that I can do it, I fail myself by giving into that little voice that whispers to me in a moment of weakness. It whispers to my weak will that one bite won't hurt, one more meal won't matter, one weekend of indulgence won't make a difference. It tells me that I only live once, that I should enjoy the flavors and be happy rather than miserable counting calories and focusing on what I put in my mouth. It tells me lies.
Some people can indulge. They can have one and stop. They can laugh at their slip up and get back on track.
I am not one of those people.
Slowly, I have been gaining my weight back and am terrified I am going to balloon back up to over 400 pounds. Because I give into that little voice, I have failed myself. I know my limitations, I know what I need to do and how to do it, yet, here I sit wondering what I can snack on later.
My want to be healthier has nothing to do about wanting to wear cute clothes or high heels, although that certainly would be a bonus. My want to be healthier and stick with moderation comes from watching cardiovascular disease and diabetes run rampant in my family. It has nothing to do with avoiding judgemental stares and mean words but more with finding comfort and joy in myself and my decisions. It has nothing to do with the fact that I have failed in the past but that I believe I can succeed in the future.
I just need to find my groove again, I need to find my tools, I need to stop giving in and giving up.
I need to be true to myself.
I know there will be people who think, 'Yep, another fatty failing. Yep, they're substandard, lazy and useless. Yep, it's their own fault and hopefully they'll die sooner than later'. I know that too well, because I've read it, I've heard stories, and those cruel words that have been hurled at my face. Thoughts like those and people who think those thoughts give me pause to write these words, make me reconsider sharing my stories and my journey.
Yesterday, I went on a casino bus trip ran by a co-worker, it is always a good time and a trip my mom and I have come to look forward to over the last few years. We meet at a local store in a parking lot that is big enough for the bus. Before we got on the bus, we decided to grab breakfast at McDonald's as it is located right by the parking lot. Right when we were walking in, two middle aged men walking out, thought it would be funny, thought it would be clever to loudly proclaim how they were glad they were there before us as we would surely eat everything and how they better hurry so we wouldn't eat them. They cackled and laughed at their obvious originality and instantly I wanted to be done.
I rarely, rarely, indulge in fast food, McDonald's especially. Not only because I'm cheap, not only because I try to make better choices, but because I have developed a fear of exactly something like that happening. People judging instantly and harshly, discarding my humanity, seeing me as just a large object to ridicule.
Worse though is for a minute, a minute too long, I found myself agreeing that I should hide myself away, that I should be embarrassed of who I was, how I was, and meekly accept condemnation from two twatwaffles that disguised themselves as humans. I said nothing, I gave them no satisfaction, I just walked inside and amidst my mom's mixture of interrogation of if I was okay and her spewing rude words about them I realized I was okay. I was hurt a little, I was put off a bit but knew their words and opinion cannot encourage or discourage me on my journey. Only I have power to fix me, to break me, and heal me.
I know this will continue to be hard and I know that I will always have tasty treats like cheese to fall back on for comfort. But I also know that I can succeed despite my setbacks, I know my failures have given me more insight, my successes have given me fuel, and I have people who I can talk to, who believe in me, who support me and that makes my goals seem tangible.
Whether it is words from strangers mocking me or the voice that tempts me away from my goals, I need to remember to raise my voice of determination and keep moving forward into the person I know I can be.
Today's Sunday Confession about Cheese started out as an attempt as a lighthearted tribute to cheese that has always been there for me, but it took me a different way today and that's okay. Please stop by the cheesy More Than Cheese And Beer and check out our hostess with the mostess as well as the other awesome bloggers who tackled this tasty prompt.