The hardest part about portion control for me has been that, once I start, I don’t want to stop. Especially if it’s something really tasty. I bite into a slice of pizza thinking, “it’s not a diet-buster if I only eat one slice,” and then one slice turns into two, or three, or four.

One of the beauties of this diet pill is that it keeps this phenomenon from occurring. I decide to have a portion that has about the right amount of fat. I start in, taking the medicine as I begin to eat. Then, if I’m tempted to have more, the specter of “treatment effects” keeps me from going any further than I’d originally intended. And, guess what? I’m not hungry. It remains to be seen whether I’m going to lose any weight with my current technique, but I’m pretty darned sure I’m eating less.

Happy weekend, everybody!

As I was driving the kid to day care this morning, I saw a guy cross the street that reminded me of an old boyfriend. It was the way he moved, his body type, and the way his shirt hung on his shoulders. The moment got me thinking about boys, and bodies, and physicality.

I started to think about boys I’d liked and what my “type” is, and it occurred to me… I really fancy my husband.

When we go to parties, I see him across the room and am proud to be with him. I see him on the soccer field and think, fondly, “that’s my man.” He’s sometimes so sweet and thoughtful, and he can be so wonderful with the boy — even though he taught him to catch bees last time he was home (when I was warning the kid to stay away from bees!).

I’ve really let my anger about our whole situation dominate, and let myself forget some of the things that drew me to him in the first place. And my negative feelings about my body have gotten me to sort of “turn off” that part of me that gets “turned on.”

I have no doubt I am justified in my anger and frustration. He’s not really there for either myself or my son most of the time, even emotionally (and definitely not physically). But, in the grand scheme of things, this time is a blip. He’s not doing this because he wants to (though some selfishness is definitely a factor), but is honestly working for the future of us, together as a family. For the long term, he’s the one I want to be with — I can’t imagine being without him — and I’ve already committed to be there, for better or worse.

So, while I’m at it, I might as well enjoy myself as much as possible. We’ve got a week’s vacation coming up, and I’ll be with my husband for several days, at least (long story). It’s going to be so much fun.

I started last night to take the new diet drug, after having found it in stock at a second pharmacy. I have a lot of thoughts about it — the most important being that it really will only work if I take the diet part of it seriously. You take it with your meals, and it basically keeps you from digesting some of the fat you consume. If you surpass 15 grams of fat in that particular meal, you could be in for some embarrassing consequences.

(Some of the materials suggest you “stay close to home” when first taking the drug, and, if you’re going to work, to “wear dark pants” and “bring a change of clothes.” The term for this problem on the company’s message boards seems to be “Alli-oops.”)

So, that’s some incentive to eat right. However, if you want to cheat, it would be simple to just not take the medicine with that particular meal. Seems like that would work, no problem. So it doesn’t really provide much incentive to stay on a low-fat diet all the time. But, when you are already committed to doing so, it should help. So far, so good, in terms of consequences for me, but I’ve only taken 2 doses. The best part is that it’s helping me be more aware of my portion sizes and food choices.

At lunchtime today, I went by a drug store to pick up a prescription, and asked about that new diet drug, alli. Turns out they were completely sold out — and it was just released for sale for the first time on Friday. Not sure how much they had in stock, but wow…

Another interesting thing of note, it wasn’t stocked in the “diet” section like those “as seen on TV” items you see on late night television. It was in the cosmetics section. Hmm…

Steam is practically puffing out of my ears I’m so angry about a work-related e-mail exchange today. I read the offending e-mail right before it was time to take the boy up for his bath, so I tried desperately to be in the moment — while simultaneously taking deep breaths and mentally composing my reply — while I bathed him and went through the usual nighttime routine.

I think I have always had a pretty bad temper. I say “I think” because I also think I became pretty good at suppressing emotions like this at some point. I remember being downright scared of my feelings, and also thinking that my father and I were alike in the intensity of our anger. And I certainly didn’t think that was a good thing. We didn’t get along so well when I was an adolescent, in part because of our mutual tendency toward snap emotional responses.

One example that stands out in my mind, probably because it must have mortified my father, is once, when I was maybe 12, and we were playing touch football in a family member’s backyard. It was at a big family get-together and a lot of folks were hanging out on the sidelines and on the patio. And, as we played, my father, at least the way I saw it, began cheating. He made the same cheating move several times, and, after screaming at him about it, I exploded with rage, scratching him in the face with my fingernails. It wasn’t like I planned it. I just lashed out in some primal way.

After incidents like that — I can’t even remember the aftermath, but it couldn’t have been good — I began to think of my temper as something dangerous. And, in fact, even by today’s standards, it was. I scratched my father in the face, after all. (Still, he shouldn’t have been cheating in a game with kids, for goodness’ sake. Most parents would let the kids win. How pathetic. See? I’m still angry.) And I also remember my little brother aggravating me to the point where I beat him with a chain-link dog leash.

Even yesterday, I fell over the edge after my son deliberately spilled milk all over the floor, for the second or third time in an evening, after having been told dozens of times that “milk is for drinking.” Ok, so it might not have been completely deliberate — he was likely trying to water the little plants we’ve been trying to grow — but he forcefully took the top off a sippy cup when it had been put there precisely to avoid that kind of situation. And I’d just told him, seconds before, not to open it. See? I’m still angry about this, too. But I’m embarrassed at how I reacted then — with full minutes of screaming, which included telling him that he would never get another cup of milk again. Ever. While he sobbed.

And lately the depths of my pissed-off-ness at my husband have been amazing. We regularly spend some of our precious time on the phone, or in person, screaming at one another. Yes, it’s a joy. Honestly, in that case, I think it’s a good thing. He’s so dense sometimes that he doesn’t realize how selfish he is being, or what damage he’s doing to the family, by some of his actions.

But, generally, my anger scares me. When it’s intense, I feel it in some deep part of my body, and my reaction is to lash out physically — to scratch, hit, throw, scream. I feel like something precious and core to my being is being attacked, and I want to defend myself in some way that makes the other person tuck their tail between their legs and leave me the heck alone.

So, I’m torn. My anger does still frighten me. I fear I’m going to damage something irreparably with my lashing out. My son’s psyche and trust in me, perhaps. My reputation at my job. My relationship with my husband. But swallowing my anger only serves to make it more intense, and maybe self-directed, because I’m not honoring my feelings. I begin to think I must be pretty pathetic, if I don’t love myself enough to believe that my negative emotions, as well as my positive ones, have value.

Until I started writing this, I don’t believe that I was aware of what a role anger might be playing in my life, my eating life. Maybe I need to take an anger management class or something. Anyway, at least I no longer have steam coming out of my ears. But I do worry a little bit about the reaction I’ll get to the e-mail I sent a little while ago. Oh, well…

It’s funny how I try and try and try to make things go right, and then, when I start to think about something else, I have a really good day, eating-wise. I had a pretty big breakfast today, but then I wasn’t hungry for lunch until around 3:30 p.m. So that was when I ate lunch. And, of course, that meant I wasn’t really hungry for dinner when I made something for the boy. So I didn’t eat. Simple as that. Then, as part of the kid’s nightime routine, I brushed my teeth with him. And now, though I have a little tiny rumble going, I’m going to go to sleep without dinner.

Besides the whole “good eating day” buzz, I’ve also just begun thinking more positively about the future of my weight struggle. On my way driving home today, crossing over the San Francisco Bay, I thought to myself… “you know, I’m really full from eating an Amy’s frozen lasagna and a piece of banana bread. How might it be if I just listened to my body and stopped eating when I was full (or, uh, satisfied)?” Hmm…

I feel like my capacity to eat has actually dropped. I get heartburn, and that overly-stuffed feeling, more easily now. Smaller amounts of food make me uncomfortable. So, I really need to just go with this… feel it… be there.

I’m also jazzed because, thanks to a recent Dietgirl.org post full of links, I have discovered a few new dietblogs that will likely become regular reads. Sadly, some of the folks I used to read regularly have stopped blogging. (Far be it from inconsistent me to berate them.) So my dietblog reading list has been somewhat shortened. I am not at a point where I’m that interested in marathon running diaries or super-fitness training blogs. It’s just so far from where I’m at that it depresses me. But there is a whole universe, apparently, of folks struggling with the same conscious eating stuff that I’ve been blabbing about most recently. Duh. Why does this suprise me? Anyway, it’s great just to read about these fellow travelers’ thoughts, and hopes, and feelings.

Speaking of feelings, I’ve been feeling so overwhelmed by my son’s temper tantrums, etc. (Not to mention hitting fellow day care kids, etc.) that I bought a book called something like “The Emotional Life of a Toddler,” and the main message is: emotions are hard to deal with. Toddlers melt down because they just plain don’t know what to do with the intense emotions — frustration, fear, anger — that everday life creates. So, my job, as a parent, is to reassure him that I still love him, that there’s life after anger, and that, if you work really hard, you can conquer the thing that’s frustrating you. (At least if it’s something like learning to put a cap on a pen, which is the level of thing that sets him off now.)

The other interesting thing. The book (and another I’ve read recently) really highlight the fact that a parent’s own feelings — things like unresolved emotional issues, feelings of guilt, etc. — can really influence the way we react to our kid’s behaviors. In the past few weeks, I’ve made some parenting blunders that I’m ashamed of, but doing this reading showed me that my situation was not only very common, but expected. Bound to happen, in fact, on occasion. Well, that’s a relief. And that “feelings and emotions are hard to deal with sometimes” sentiment? Yup. Couldn’t agree more. Thankfully, I’m pretty sure I’m not teaching the kid that eating is the solution to cancelling out challenging emotions. Now if I can only teach myself.

Well, hubby is home for the weekend and, in some ways, things are on more of an even keel. I have support with the boy, and I have help with shopping, household chores, etc. On the other hand, we’re now used to living apart and having all of the control over every decision. This, of course, leads to conflict. We’ve forgotten what it’s like to compromise and think about each other’s feelings. No wonder neither of us married earlier (especially him). He can be a real asshole (and admits it), at times.

And in other news, the new dishwasher arrived today. Yippee! It’s pretty small and it takes FOREVER to run, but it seems like it could be a big timesaver, which is desperately needed in these parts, especially when the man of the house is away.

—–

So, I know I haven’t mentioned this here, but I spoke with my (new) boss recently, and he is open to my moving across the country (again) to get the family back together. So, there’s no timetable set, but it appears to be an inevitability. I don’t even want to talk about it more, as it just brings anxiety about change — selling the house, packing up all our things, figuring out where we want to live, etc. It’s just too much for me, mentally, given all of the other things on my mind on a regular basis. But it’ll get done. Slowly but surely.

We are getting a (portable 18″) dishwasher this weekend!!! One of my hurdles with cooking regularly is that the dishes are just too hard to keep up with, by myself — and the boy just isn’t yet capable of washing up for me. So, despite a lack of space, we are going to find a space for a dishwasher. Yippee!

even when you’re not hungry. A Time photo essay.

Taking my cue from DietGirl’s post yesterday, I’m going to focus initially on drinking enough water. I feel like I eat so many times when I am actually thirsty, and if I just filled my tummy with water and other liquid (non-caloric) goodies, there wouldn’t be as much room for high-cal stuff.

How to do it, though? Fill up my giant mug every morning at work, and shoot for finishing it by the end of the day. Then, maybe fill another when I get home. The boy is obsessed with also drinking from my mug, so it’s a battle to keep it available. Worth a try, for sure.

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I’ve been thinking a lot about that new diet drug, alli, which is going to be released mid-month for over-the-counter use here in the U.S. But even thinking about it gets me convinced I am grasping at straws. The medicine is supposed to keep you from absorbing as much fat, but if you eat high-fat foods, it can cause those unpleasant symptoms that that fat substitute Olestra caused. (I believe the oft-repeated phrase was “anal leakage.”)

Anyway, perhaps that would be additional motivation to keep meals low fat — or suffer the consequences We’ll see. At this point, I honestly feel like I’ve tried everything at least twice and failed every time. Well, not EVERY time, but I’ve now re-tried the things that helped me succeed in the past, and I’ve failed. So I have this terrible self-image of myself as a serial failure.

I’ve spent lots of time looking back at previous successful weight loss attempts and the main thing that is different — stress. The first time I lost weight, I was in my last year of college, taking just 3 classes and working at a coffee shop. I had plenty of time for shopping, and cooking, etc. and I didn’t have lots of things weighing on my mind. I was also a vegetarian, so that might have been a factor.

The second time, I was working in a job I’d had for a while, so it wasn’t super challenging. I got my food delivered to me every day, so I didn’t have to make any decisions about what to eat. I found the time to exercise either before or after work (or both). I lived close to work — within walking distance — and also closer to friends, so I had more of a social life. I set a goal — a couple of triathlons — after losing some weight, and that helped me structure my workouts.

And now… I am in a new job, I have an hour (each way) commute, I have a challenging 2-year-old, my husband is across the country much of the time. Hmm.. no wonder I’m not doing so well.

But, the question is… could I ever be successful at losing weight in circumstances like I’m facing now? Do I really need to just reduce the stress in my life (somehow) before I can lose weight? Or do I need to (and can I?) learn how to deal with the stress better? Am I fighting an impossible battle by even trying to do this (not that I’m trying right now) when I’m in such a bad place, generally. I certainly don’t have an answer, but I’m likely to keep trying… even if I have to resort to the last straw medication.