Remember kids; never mix your uppers and your downers.
My family always celebrates Father’s Day the same way: fishing holiday. We loaded up the truck, hooked up the trailer then drove two hours to our favorite fishing spot. This year there were eleven of us, and in attempt to save monies we all camped in tents.
No one in my family knows about my intermittent fasting, so meals were interesting. I utilized every tool in my kit to avoid eating -- probably an unnecessary precaution. There was so much going on that no one paid any attention to my eating habits. Except my mom, who liked making comments about how I hadn’t eaten dinner or how coffee was an interesting choice for breakfast. She loves me, I don’t doubt that for a second, but her concern doesn't stem from worry about my health. My mom is the most competitive person I know and for the first time in ten years I almost weigh less than her. She is doing everything in her power, short of force-feeding me, to make sure I never do. I'm sure I'll elaborate in future posts, but for now, just know she is a huge thorn in my side when it comes to losing weight.
With a little creativity I was able to stick to my IF regiment. Most of the meals that fell outside my eating window were avoided or fed to the pups. One night I went for a hike while everyone else cooked and ate dinner. It was lovely and soul soothing. Exactly what I needed.
On the last night, part of the group wanted to stop for burger while the rest wanted to drive straight home. Everyone in my car decided on the latter, which was fine by me. I ate a cupcake as my last meal and called it good -- not a great source of nutrition, but it did push my calories safely over 1,000 which has been my daily goal. Unfortunately, my lovely siblings decided last minute that they did want to stop for dinner. I meant to just eat a dry salad, but ended up stuffing my face with fries as well. At least my burger sat mostly untouched. Epic fail.
The guilt has started again. You know, the niggling feeling while restricting that any food is bad, no matter how healthy. I don’t know what to do. Besides being a total mind-fuck, it leads to binges. (The idea being, if you already feel guilty about eating, you might as well give yourself something to really be guilty about.) Also, my autoimmune disease is flaring up. I have sharp, stabby pains in my gut and my intestines feel about four sizes too big.
I should never have gotten out of bed this morning.