I got on the scale this morning and nearly stopped breathing when I saw my weight had gone up to what it was at the start of the year. All my progress during lockdown wiped clean. I could feel my mind starting to spiral. Every instinct in my body was telling me to start starving myself immediately, to go back onto a diet, to do anything in my power to move that number down. But I was able to recognise that this was neither healthy or sustainable to my weight loss journey. Over the past month I have been tackling my lifelong bad eating habits. I have been forcing myself to eat three meals a day, 1500 calories and no snacks. And it has been hard. There were days where I failed, but days where I succeeded. And I know that my weight gain is due to that, because up until a month ago I was eating 1200 a day. But I was miserable and lacking energy. Despite this weight gain, I am able to recognise that this is the first time in a long time that I can say that my relationship with food has some semblance of being a healthy one. I still plan to lose weight, but I also think it’s important to make small but life long changes to the way I think and behave around food. I got off the scale and sat myself down, forced myself to breathe through the panic and reminded myself that this is a long journey, and that I will not allow myself to stop at the first hurdle. I then went downstairs and made myself breakfast. It was incredibly surreal.
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