It was only while cleaning up the kitchen that I realized my fall from low carb grace was worse than I recalled in yesterday’s post. I had hit the baked ziti hard – and some brioche also disappeared down my gullet.
Perhaps I’m doomed to remain this weight. Perhaps I am a victim of ‘False Hope Syndrome’:
People appear to behave paradoxically, by persisting in repeated self-change attempts despite previous failures. It is argued, though, that self-change attempts provide some initial rewards even when unsuccessful. Feelings of control and optimism often accompany the early stages of self-modification efforts. In addition, unrealistic expectations concerning the ease, speed, likely degree of change, and presumed benefits of changing may overwhelm the knowledge of one’s prior failures. It is thus important to learn to distinguish between potentially feasible and impossible self-change goals in order to avoid overconfidence and false hopes leading to eventual failure and distress.(https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/11466595)
I don’t seem to get all that distressed over my failures, however. Is this a positive thing or a negative thing though? Am I I determined or just a fool? Is the success I’ve had in the past unattainable now? Do I simply lack the cohones I once had too pull it off again? Have I retired from the kind of effort needed to take off 40 pounds and am just too stupid to know it? Should I call it quits on a 10-year low carb run and find a new diet? Or maybe just walk away from the gaming table with my winnings: down 35 pounds for a decade is still an achievement. Buy new clothes that fit at this size, shut down this blog and maybe start a new one about Fasciest Homeowner’s associations? Mine just sent me 30 pages of regulations on how often I should mow my lawn, how often I should water it, as well as the maximum lawn height: 4.5 inches. The document gently warned: ‘inspections will be made.’
If somebody comes to my house with a ruler to measure the height of my lawn I am going to spray them with a hose.
I decided to say to hell with the diet for the day. I had a Panera souffle with some eggs and toast early afternoon after cleaning the kitchen. Herein lies a big problem with saying to Hell with the diet – even if I don’t lose weight: I feel the difference. Afterward I was real tired and ended up taking a nap.
I woke late afternoon and the wife wanted to go to The Bonefish Grill (she had a coupon). I had never been there, but decided I would order whatever I felt like. We had a great appetizer of shrimp and scallops in a gooey cheese sauce with flatbread, then they brought a nice loaf of hot bread with pesto sauces to the table – then a second because the table devoured it. My main course was a seafood-stuffed tiliapa with au gratin potatoes which was washed down with 2 martinis until I switched to water. My younger daughter had fallen asleep before her main course came – a tempura fish and chips and I must say the few bites stolen of this stuff proved this to be a very good take on the classic dish.
Full to bursting from the meal we all went home and went straight to sleep, though I was thirsty and had no less than 2 big tumblers of almond milk and another glass of water.
I paid for my wanton transgression with indigestion that woke me a couple of times. The fire could only be put out by a few Tums each time.
I can’t eat like most normal people – nor can I seem to stick to my diet. Checkmate.