I'll have a cheeseburger and some self-loathing, please

So I'm going along quite well, holding on to the idea that I love and accept and approve and forgive myself, and then I wake up this morning - and something's different.

As I consider it, I remember a number of little things happened yesterday - to be more accurate, a number of little things didn't happen yesterday. I didn't work as hard as I planned to, I didn't follow my eating plan as well as I wanted to, I didn't do a few things that I said I would do, I got a little apprehensive about the future, and I didn't sleep that well last night. Basically, I had set some small goals for myself, some of which were not really within my control, and then I had not met those goals.

So this morning dawns and I'm feeling not so great about myself. I've lost that lovin' feelin'.

I got on the scale this morning. It was a conscious choice, but in retrospect I see now that I created another expectation for myself, in this case an unrealistic expectation. I had lost weight, just not as much as I wanted to. The scale accurately reflected my "loosened" commitment to my eating plan over the last two weeks.

Of course, it added to all the other evidence that, for all my talk about loving myself, I was a failure and flawed and undeserving of self-love.

Like a subtle headache, the cloudiness descended, just a little, and I could tell that my mood was flat. A non-love hangover.

With a sense of resolve, I jumped back to my eating plan, ate the breakfast I planned, and it was good. But there was residual dust in the air of my consciousness. Like crumbs on a counter after making a sandwich, or smoke hanging overhead.

I had NOT loved, approved and forgiven myself this morning. I was, in fact, feeling "bad." I had done bad things (actually, I had not done good things), and it was as if the barometric pressure had changed.

In my "less than" state, I was less patient with our new teenage kitty, and barked at her for doing something that was just about her natural curiosity. Her nature. It is her nature to investigate - she's a curious cat - yet I was "in a bad mood" and so I reacted more harshly than I might have were I in a good mood.

In a bad mood - interesting - actually, my mood reflects my self-perception as bad. I'm bad, and I'm moody. I'm in a bad mode. AHA!

So now I sit at my desk and I started writing this because I felt there was an opportunity here to get clear about what was going on for me.

Those of us who are new to the idea of loving, approving and forgiving ourselves (newbies) can be quite detached from what we REALLY are thinking, feeling, reacting to.

It kinda takes the joy out of devouring an entire lotza meatza pizza when you accurately identify the motivator. "I don't love myself, so I'm doing a self-destructive thing to confirm my low opinion of myself. I'm eating this pizza because I get a momentary sensory pleasure in a life devoid of other pleasures, followed by a pervasive sense of depression, desperation, sadness, punishing physical pain, and relentless self-loathing. I get to have my clothes feel tighter tomorrow morning. As an added bonus, I get to exacerbate an ongoing health problem and possibly precipitate a medical crisis. I might even die. Hell - make that an extra large!!" How many orders for Ruin Your Life Pizza do you think Domino's would get?

Ben & Jerry's Pity Party Ice Cream
McDonald's Supersize Disgustie McNuggies
Tillamook Extra Frustrated Sharp Cheddar
Wendy's Inferiority Complex Chili
KFC Bucket O' Bile
Jack-in-the-Box Jumbo Self-Destructo
Starbuck's Venti Depresso

The aisles of the supermarket could be divided into moods and feelings instead of food categories. "I think I'll take a stroll down the Self-Contempt aisle - oh look, they're having a sale on Loathio's!"

I sat down in front of the computer this morning, and I know I'll be leaving the house later to go to the bank, and I had the fleeting thought, "Hmmmmm. I could get a breakfast burrito while I'm out."

Here's the progression of thoughts and feelings from that one little seed:

I'll be out and it'll be easy to hit a drive-through.
I'm not really hungry but I'm feeling kinda empty.
I'm feeling anxious this morning - kinda jumpy. I need to eat something.
I don't know why, but I want to be "bad."
I could have a breakfast burrito.
That wouldn't be so bad.
Probably 500 calories.
Tortilla, cheese, eggs, sausage pieces, salsa - mmmmmm.
They make a good one at Checkers.
I'll probably just slam it down in 30 seconds.
Sounds good.
Maybe I sould get two burritos.
I could slam the first one down really fast, just to relieve the pressure, you know, just get it out of the way, then savor the second one.
I'll need to get a drink, too, because I'll probably choke from eating so fast.
And I'll need to throw away the wrappings somewhere while I'm out so that nobody finds out I cheated.
It's fun thinking about being bad.
As long as I'm cheating - maybe I should get some of those tasty tater tots they have.
Or maybe I should go to a burger place instead.
Oh man, a big greasy burger on a big bun, dripping with cheese - that would be good!
Then I could also get a big chocolate shake!
As long as I'm being bad, I might as well go for it.
Fries, too, of course.
Oh, and maybe a hot apple pie! Two. They're two for a buck, need to order two.
I haven't tried their Tuscan mushroom chicken burger yet - I wonder what that's like.
How much money do I have in my wallet? Oh good, I've got a twenty. Phew.
Oh, I know - I'll get one breakfast burrito from Checkers, slam it down, then go to the burger place and get just one big superduper burger or whatever and a strawberry shake, and then park somewhere and really enjoy it.
I feel a sense of relief making that plan.
There's enough food to make me really feel like shit for cheating - I'll REALLY feel bad after I eat all that - and I'll also feel uncomfortably full, painfully full. I might even be light-headed from the insulin reaction to the shake.
I'm gonna feel like total shit.
Good.
I need to punish myself.
I NEED to wallow in my unhappiness, my unloveability.
There's no alternative.
There's nothing I can do - I'm going to be running that errand, and I'll be driving right in front of both those places.
Oh, KFC is there, too!
Maybe I could get one of those 8-piece family specials with a big potato salad and a big mac n cheese. Neither of those are that good, and the extra crispy is so damned salty, but I'll REALLY feel uncomfortable. But wait, what about something sweet? I need to have salty, greasy, spicy, crispy, sweet, creamy, chewy - all the sensations - I have to have a festival in my mouth if I expect this binge to work. You know, work - make me feel like total shit.
KFC doesn't have anything that good as far as sweet is concerned.
Hmmm, I like the idea of a strawberry shake.
I could get a couple of those small dollar burgers and a shake at the burger place, then hit KFC for the rest of it.
Yeah!
Now we're talking!
That's a good plan.
Phew! I feel a sense of relief, and a tingly sensation about the upcoming badness.
I'm also energized - time to get dressed and get out there!
Oh crap, it's almost noon.
I'll be hitting the lunch traffic.
That's not so good.
I'll wait until around 1:30 to go out.
Is there anything around here I could eat that would tide me over until I went out?
I know there's two ramens.
I could make the ramens and put a big chunk of butter on them.
Just slam those down now, and take the pressure off, then go get the "good" stuff.
Well, if I have the ramens now, maybe I want something different?
What would be really good would be to go to the drive-through BBQ place and get a pound of beef ribs.
Yummmmmmmm!
Those things are damned good. Dripping with grease and caramelized BBQ sauce.
And they go so well with ramen.
Mmmmm!
The BBQ place is kinda far away - definitely not on the way to the bank - it's in the opposite direction, actually.
But man, it's so worth it.
And I've got twenty in my wallet, I can afford it.
Their sweet potato pie is really good, too.
The burger place is on the way to the BBQ place.
Ramen with butter now.
Pick up one of those Tuscan chicken sandwiches and a great big Pepsi for the ride over to the BBQ place.
Get a big honkin pile of those delicious beef ribs.
Park somewhere, cover myself with paper towels (those ribs are messy!) and go to town.
Oh, and there's that open dumpster down the road I can throw all the trash in.
All right!
Now we're talking!
Gotta be almost 4000 cals there.
Whooee!
I'll feel so bad when I'm done!
My belly will be extended.
I'll totter on my feet.
I'll be sweating and greasy and that wonderful combination of light-headed and completely disgusted with myself.
And tonight, when Ande gets home, I'll have to make a "regular" dinner and eat it, because I don't want her to know.
But I'll probably be in a crappy mood.
And I'll spend the night reliving eating all those gorgeous ribs, and I'll be itching to tell her about it. If I tell her, she will chastize me. God knows, I'll deserve it.
I won't even tell her about the ramen and the chicken burger and the shake - just telling her about the ribs will be plenty bad enough.
I'm kinda smiling right now, thinking about it.
Thinking about her disappointment with me.
Thinking about the disappointment with myself.
Afterward, I'll have to make big promises to her, and to myself, which I won't keep.
And I'll have even more reason to feel bad.
I'll be curiously hungry at bedtime.
You'd think, with all that food, I wouldn't want to eat more, but I will.
Those breakfast burritos are really good cold.
I could just get one, leave it in the car, and then sneak out tonight after Ande goes to bed and scarf it down.
I should probably also have something sweet - after all, it's bedtime.
Something that will last awhile as I eat it.
That's what's so good about a pint of ice cream.
It's like thirty spoonfuls.
I could just scrap the whole plan and go to the supermarket and and get twenty bucks worth of food - a pint of ice cream, maybe a big steak, a pound of cheese, a box of crackers - mmmmm!
Twenty might not be enough, but I could get some cash out.
I could get some BBQ sauce to dip the steak in.
That would be good.
But not as good as the ribs.
Hmmm.
What to do - what to do.

Funny.
All this thought about eating and I don't feel anxious anymore.
Somehow, planning to be bad - imagining being bad - and writing it all down so I could see the self-deceipt and self-destruction in it - has squelched the actual need to be bad.
There was a moment there where I woulda just jumped in the car and gone for it.
But now I'm thinking I could do the errand to the bank and not get any food.
If I put some of my skinless chicken thighs into the oven right now, they'll be done by the time I go, and I'll have them when I return. That's on my eating plan. I can make the bok choy, too, and theres one serving of brown rice left in the fridge.
That would be a great lunch, and tasty - and nutritious.
It would take the pressure off, because I would KNOW that it was waiting for me when I got home, and I wouldn't have to go to a fast food place at all.
Honestly, there's nothing I really could get "out there" that would be both delicious and on my plan.
I like following the plan.
It's a good feeling to know I can move out of the desire to hurt myself.
I can reaffirm my newborn sense of love, approval and forgiveness for myself.
I can let the haze lift.
I feel better.
I really feel better!
Amazing.

If it was crystal clear to me exactly WHAT I was really doing when I choose to eat, I wonder how often I'd go ahead and eat that burger when it came drenched in self-loathing?