The Divorce Diet

Philosophy Holiday AngelI finally used one of my Christmas gifts.  It’s Philosophy’s Holiday angel high-foaming shampoo, shower gel & bubble bath.  All in one?  Does that have my name all over it or what?

Despite my desire for an efficient showering experience, I have a Mommy brain, which forgot that I had stored the fabulous product on a shelf under my bathroom sink.  But a search for a Band-aid brought me Christmas in June.

Not long after I towel-dried, I started feeling hungry.  Hungry for something sweet.  Like cake.  Angel food cake.  Oh Philosophy, the irony of a fat girl smelling like angel food cake is not lost on me.

This got me thinking about the year (or 14 months) of my divorce.  I lost 40 pounds in a very short period of time.  My ex was furious.  Why are you losing weight now?  Why not when we were married?  Maybe because food was my only comfort when dealing with your crap.  Maybe out of spite because you constantly reminded me that I was such a disappointment to you because I could look like a supermodel, but I didn’t.

It was more than that.  It was the Divorce Diet.  The Divorce Diet is unlike anything that I have experienced.  I am a stress eater.  I have been through so many stressful events, like the discovery of the gambling, and my body’s response was always to crave sweets.  Like angel food cake.  With chocolate syrup.  And a coke to wash it down.

Not with the Divorce Diet.  Perhaps the difference is that with past circumstances, I could maintain some sense of denial that things would improve, but with the divorce I had to accept defeat.  I have no idea.  I just know that not only did my body not crave food, it rejected it.  Friends would remind me to eat to keep up my strength.  Almost immediately after eating, my body would scream “NO MA’AM,” and off to the bathroom I would run.

The pounds just melted away.  On the day of my divorce, I was the same size as I was on the day of my wedding.  There was some poetic justice in that.

Here we are four years later, and I am no longer the shell of a person that I was that first year.  I’m not completely healed, but I’m no longer a lost soul.  I’m also no longer a size 8.

I don’t wish to suffer the same emotions that I felt that year, but I do wish the Divorce Diet would strike again.  Alas, I have to remember what my my grandmother always said. “Wish in one hand, s#@% in the other, and see which one fills up first.” I guess I’m going to have to take matters into my own (empty) hands.

I started the Couch to 5k Program, which I am convinced was designed by the same sadists that created the Accelerated Reader Program.  It’s all about torture.

The idea of the program is to run/walk for 30 minute intervals to build up your stamina.

Couch to 5k

Today was Day 1, which meant that I ran for 60 seconds, then walked for 90 seconds.  It seemed like as soon as I stop sucking wind after the 60 second running period, I heard “Bing,” and my flight attendant interrupted the music on my iPod to sweetly tell me to start running again. (Surely my app is broken.  There is no way that was a full 90 second walking period.)

By the end of the week, she is going to have to come up with a new approach.  Perhaps, drop that nicey-nice voice and yell something like, “Run for safety!  The plane is going down!”

Now that is motivational!

It looks like I have my first project for July, when the kids are gone.  Well, if my running motivation can last the full remaining week until July actually starts.  Consider yourself warned.  Expect a lot of whining and complaining on the blog.  (as if THAT will be a big change…any change)  But don’t expect me to smell like angel food cake.  That’s just wrong on so many levels.