Dangerous Dinners

Last night I did something stupid. REALLY stupid. COLOSSALLY stupid.

It’s something that, if done again, could lead me down a path which I would never want to revisit.

Since my surgery, I have had the odd take-away meal from McDonalds or somewhere similar. Generally, this involves ordering a small fries and a plain cheeseburger. I remove the bun, eat MOST of the burger/cheese and about half the fries. This works well. It makes me feel “normal” without causing any real problems.

My husband has recenty been struggling with his diet. He’s not fat by any stretch, but he’s been feeling less in shape than he wants to be. But he struggles with motivation to start eating healthily again. Last week, he came to the decision that he wanted to pick a day and REALLY start going for it on the diet/exercise front. I offered to help support him, and I advised him (perhaps badly) to get all the treats out of his system and then buckle down as of Monday (today). He thought this a great idea and set about drinking a lot of beer, eating a lot of curry and looking forward to the coming week of healthful living.

Unfortunately, he had four days to fill before Monday came around.  Perhaps we both should have known better than to plan in this way. I know only too well that putting off a healthy life is all too easy to do. It’s simple to tell ourselves “this is the last time I will eat this way… I better have that ENTIRE pizza tonight, or I’d better have TWO curries to get it out of my system…”  There’s even a term to describe it: “Last Supper Syndrome.”

Believe me, I’ve had my fair share of “last suppers.” Every diet that I’ve ever tried was preceeded by DAYS worth of overeating in anticipation. It got to be a running joke for anyone who knew me.

But back to last night. In the anticipation of starting up HIS healthful living regime, I somehow let my husband’s Last Supper syndrome influence ME. I started to feel that come Monday, I should begin a healthful eating plan, as well. I have been indulging in Dr Pepper a lot lately, which I want to stop, and as mentioned I have eaten a few take-away meals and eaten a bit of ice cream (Skinny Cow or Diabetic versions, but ice cream nonetheless!), which has not been helping my weight loss. So Monday became D-Day for both of us. And without even thinking, I became part of the Last Supper mentality.

So last night, Ross and I drove to McDonalds. I had been anticipating a small Shamrock Shake, but UK McDonalds don’t tend to have them. I had wanted a small sip of one to satiate my craving, and the rest I was going to give to Ross. I ended up ordering my usual plain cheeseburger, but this time I decided on a MEDIUM fries. And to top it off, I bought a Toffee Sundae to go with it!  Ross had already decided to get a burger and fries from a different establishment, but upon seeing my Toffee Sundae, he decided to order one, too!

Once we’d got his food and returned home, I set about eating my food. I started with the fries (a big no no! protein first, kiddies!), eating them slowly at first, and then shoveling them down my gullet. Then, I removed the bun and ate the burger. All of this took less than 5 minutes. As a meal for me SHOULD take half an hour or more, I really was stupid to have eaten in this way. I knew I wouldn’t fit the ice cream quite yet, so I waited.  My husband ate his meal with relish, and both of us watched TV during the proceedings (another big no no! food should be focussed on – we eat a lot more when distracted!).

After about half an hour (not NEARLY long enough), I started on the sundae. And I did NOT take my time. I devoured 3/4 of the thing in about 3 minutes. And that’s when I suddenly realised my folly. What was I DOING to myself??

I had once again fallen victim to “Last Supper Syndrome,” but I had done it in the most idiotic way possible. Not only was I endangering my health by eating such unhealthy food, but I was endangering my body immediately by forcing too much food into my much smaller stomache. I could have ruptured it! It is DANGEROUS to do what I did. Yet I never allowed myself to think of the repercussions.

As you can imagine, I spent a good few hours in the bathroom, with vomiting, diarrhea and intense stomach pains. I wound up taking a long hot bath to try to make myself feel better, but all that happened is my heart rate increased hugely, and my nose kept running. I sincerely wondered if I needed a hospital.

Luckily for me, I was okay in the end. I went to bed and immediately passed out, and when I awoke this morning, I felt a lot better… at least physically.

Mentally I’m struggling. How could I have let myself go through all of that. Have I learned nothing since surgery? This is the OLD Katie at work. I should never have been that weak as to allow myself to lose track of all that I’ve accomplished.

That said, it goes to show that surgery is not a fix-all. It is merely a means to an end. If we cannot get our eating habits under control, we WILL gain the weight back. We must choose to have “enough” rather than “plenty.” We must choose protein over carbs. We must choose healthy over junk.

Today I start over again, and I promise myself (for whom else should I promise?) that I will not allow myself to fall into old traps.

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