Diet is just a horrible word. There is nothing remotely attractive about it. It is has so many negative connotations that you just want to throw yourself in front of a bus. A bus made of chocolate and lard. Generally I live by the rule of 'everything in moderation' whilst trying to eat fresh veggies and fruit whenever I can and I don't get fat. Granted, I'm not a stick but I don't want to look like an Ethiopian child or Renee Zellweger circa Chicago. I like looking as though I would know how to cook a good roast.
However, there is something about the women of our generation that has given us all a strange relationship with food. Most of the women I know will confess to being big food lovers, but still be terrorised by nagging guilt when thinking about an extra piece of pie. We can narrow down the cause to social pressure. We don't want to be labelled as "the fat one" in our friendship group, and we spend hours analysing and internally criticising each others shapes, fashion, even faces. For this the media is nearly entirely to blame - I'm sure you'll agree. But there's not a lot we can do about it now. We have been brainwashed to believe skeletal is beautiful and we must be dieting at all times or else 'the men' won't want us anymore and will run off with their secretary (who is like totally a size 6 and can put her legs behind her head).
As a feminist, I try my absolute hardest to not fall into this never-ending cycle - we must not conform to physical expectations demanded of the modern woman! But naturally I do feel insecure about the way I look on some days of the week, but I also know that this doesn't really matter in the big scheme of things.
All of this strong willed nonchalance has been rocked recently by a looming and imposing event. A wedding. Not even my own wedding. But the wedding in which I know many photos will be taken and immortalised forever. Sneaky photographs of me laughing with a mouthful of chocolate cake or trying to fit my fist into my mouth (something I do alarmingly frequently). If I'm going to be captured being my foolish self, the last thing I want is to look fat as well. "Haha, look at that chubby girl with a mouth full of chocolate cake. I bet she lives in a house full of cats and cries whilst eating Carnation caramel out of a tin with her chubby sausage fingers and keeps Rolos between her chins." Not me, thank you very much.
With only four weeks to go, I decided that it was time for a crash diet. Let me say now that crash diets are dangerous and stupid. I knew this before I made the decision and I still know this now. But I need to look good, dammit! The plan was 900 calories per day with a high level of protein and a low fat intake. I've been tracking my eating habits for a good few months now with online food diary - My Fitness Pal. This was spurred on my watching Channel 4's Secret Eaters and worrying that every time I had a sandwich that I was going to end up on the show. This way I was just increasing my knowledge of calorie contents and ensuring that I ate a balanced diet. I haven't lost any weight through doing this, so I guess that's a good thing.
About a month ago on BBC 2, they showed a Horizon on the subject of fasting. If it's related to food and it's on television, I'm going to watch it. It covered several different types of fasting processes - from a four day 50 calorie fast to intermittent fasting (where you could eat 600 calories one day and 1 million the next). But the science behind it made a lot of sense. When we eat protein, our cells are in "go-go" mode and don't have time to heal themselves. Giving your body a rest from this allows it to self heal and improves your overall health and well-being. Many people even live on what is called a VLCD (or very low calorie diet) that entails eating only 600 calories a day. But these people eat bucket loads of veggies and fruit. One particular participant was a 100 year old man and he was running a marathon. Well, you can't argue with that.
600 calories a day sounded a bit low for me (if you want the reality of this check out The Extreme Dietry of Robyn Wilder). So I began my 900 calorie task at the beginning of this week. Monday went well and once I had passed through the hunger wall, I was living in a soft focus, heady land of dizzy doolalary. Tuesday was even easier. Then Wednesday hit and I was still doing fine until it came to lunch time. I was wandering around Sainsburys trying to find some lunch when I started to black out. I've never fainted in my life and I wasn't going to start now. I had to grab a shelf for support and composed myself before picking up a jacket potato and heading back to enjoy the starchy goodness. I'd had a particularly bad day at the office and was lightheaded and grumpy when I arrived home. I snapped at Rob for no reason what so ever and flung myself down on the bed, stomach grumbling furiously. I completely lacked in the required energy to put a healthy meal together, so after sulking for a while, I cooked a turkey breast and solemnly munched away. Rob sat down next to me with a huge plate of butcher bought sausages, potatoes and onion gravy. Why wasn't I eating this too?! The night ended with me spontaneously bursting into sobs.
I've discovered that no matter how bad I look in the photos, the feeling can't be worse than how I felt yesterday. I will crash diet for no one. I'm so sorry food, please take me back. I didn't mean those awful things I said when I left you, it was the heat of the moment. Now excuse me whilst I dislodge the Rolos from my fat rolls... I had been saving them for a special occasion.
For further reading: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5RLAGxUbp-U.
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