Hmm. I bet you can’t guess what I’m about to confess?
I’m not doing it any more.
Actually, the fasting days were no bother; I was a paragon of virtue and on all the days I planned to fast on 500 calories a day, I did. So from that point of view, for two months I at least demonstrated some semblance of willpower, and a determination to finally nail this diet malarkey. Which I spend all my time informing people doesn’t actually work.
So, why did I stop? Well, the problem wasn’t the fasting days, it was the in-between days. The blurb of the book says that the Fast Diet isn’t suitable for anyone who has had an eating disorder, and in my arrogance and enthusiasm to find the wonder diet, I decided that my binge eating disorder (I haven’t got to that point in the life story, maybe over the weekend) wasn’t a REAL eating disorder so it didn’t count.
Only it started to come back, didn’t it? I’d display an iron resolve on fast days and sit with a saintly smile on my face while my dearly beloved scoffed proper food. I’d ignore the hum of the fridge as my tummy rumbled, consoling myself with thoughts of what I was going to eat the next day. And boy did I eat the day after a fast. Not to start with, but as I got more used to it and started to get a bit bored with the limitations of 500 calories a day, I would lie awake the night after a fast and daydream about food. My stomach would taunt me with horrible gurgling noises and I’d feel strangely wired. Probably my brain telling me to stop sleeping and get up and eat something.
So the morning after a fast I was like a Jack springing out of her box. Or would that be a Jill? I’d promise every time to myself that I’d slow down but if it wasn’t nailed down it was fair game. I’d pick all day; something I hadn’t been doing that much before I started fasting. Of course, I wasn’t losing anything either because what I wasn’t eating on a fast day I made up for the following day. Not only that, but I then started eating more on the day before a fast day, telling myself that I had to because I wouldn’t be able to eat it the next day. And that if I didn’t eat it, my other half would.
I stopped because it was his birthday, then I had to go for my gastroscopy…and then I just couldn’t face another pre-fast eating session. The last fast I did was a couple of weeks ago, and to be honest I have been a lot more relaxed since. I’ve only really had one day where I’ve eaten in the same way as I did between fasts, and that was because I was incredibly tired and fed up. Just one of those days.
I can see how fasting can work for normal eaters who just want to lose a bit of weight, but my relationship with food is just way too complicated and I don’t want to be bingeing all the time. I’m having a re-think. Do I just accept that I ain’t never gonna lose this darn weight…or try another way?
I’ll have to get back to you on that one…