Sabotage of the Self Variety

SW ⟫ CW ⟫ GW

207.7 ⟫ 187.9 ⟫ 168.2

Ozempic ⟫ 0.5 mg

And into territory that I am well acquainted by – the land of self sabotage. I don’t know if it’s because of the way I took less for two weeks or what, but I haven’t been feeling the effects of the Ozempic anywhere near as strongly. Maybe it needs to build up in my system again or something? Whatever, but simply because I don’t have the galloping trots, the desire to throw up almost constantly or the feeling like there is a boulder sitting on my chest whenever I try to eat something, I haven’t been finding it as difficult to eat/overeat. The food noise is back and apparently, I have fallen right back into the hell that is constantly being hungry and thinking about food.

Not helped by me falling for the ridiculous marketing technique of “buy four for £10” that is Easter eggs from Asda. I don’t even have the excuse of people to buy eggs for – everyone is old enough to buy their own, so why the heck I threw four giant Easter eggs into the shopping basket, I really don’t know. Worse, I’ve already eaten one of them.

Stripes said something to me the other day that has been ricocheting around my empty head – about how I use food to punish myself. Whether it’s eating things that I know are going to make me feel sick, or upset my stomach – when I’m feeling down on myself or a little lost, I tend to eat my emotions and not always in a ‘chow down on everything’ mode. Rather, deciding to have chicken wings even though ever since I started Trulicity, chicken has made me throw up quite violently. Or chocolate, which even before the semaglutide was something that would make going to the bathroom a pretty awful experience.

I visited my Marmee on Sunday for perhaps the first time in six months. She’s been away on holiday and I wanted to take round her Mother’s Day present personally. I wore the bright pink dress I ordered from Simply Be, as well as the shining new white trainers; Stripes did my eyebrows and I felt GOOD - well, as long as I didn’t look at any pictures or mirrors. My Marmee is blunt – if she tells you that you look good, then she’s not bullshitting. Obviously that has another side to it – if she thinks you need to hear the ugly truth about something, she’ll tell you.

She was so happy to see both me and Stripes (and Grim turned up once she’d awoken), so she was pretty much dancing in her seat at having all of us visit her. And she called me to tell me to keep up the good work and that I looked good. I was practically wagging my tail in joy. It is one of the weirdness things of weight loss whereby you want people to notice that you’ve lost weight, compliment you on it, and yet you don’t want people to say anything because – well, it’s about your weight and that is a lava-hot topic for most people.

But then my head got involved and I found myself thinking. What if my Marmee is only saying I look good/like I’ve lost weight because I’ve told her that I’ve been losing weight? And what did she think of how I looked before? And – well, generally imagine a gigantic pot-hole in the middle of the street you’re walking down with neon lights telling you that it’s there and you need to avoid it and thinking, hmm, I wonder what’s down there before jumping in with both feet and then bemoaning the fact that you appear to have fallen? So yeah, my head is still not a healthy place and I find myself doubting everything. Add to which, the scales are not moving (not up or down) and you can imagine what’s been going on in my head. What if it’s stopped working? What if I need the side effects – the explosive bathroom visits, the vomiting, etc in order to lose weight?

Fortunately for me, the wool I ordered has arrived and instead of keeping my hands busy with food, I can crochet the blanket for the great-nibling that is due in October. And I think I need to do a bit more work on that Mantra stuff because my goodness, my head is just such a fucked up place.