Then I went a couple months without weighing, until May 16, when I found I'd gained 2 kg since my last.
I was shocked. I had believed for that entire period that I was eating reasonably; that the sugary snacks and carb-filled meals were infrequent enough not to matter. And I told myself, standing on the scale that day, I've got to get a handle on this.
That was hardly the first time in my life I've felt that way on the scale. But somehow this time has been different. It's like a switch flipped in my head that day. It's not just that I've been ignoring the chocolate drawer at work: it's that it really hasn't been a struggle to ignore it. I don't feel deprived, and only once in the past month have I even felt called-out to by something (see below). I've eaten sugary food twice in the past four weeks: A small slice of cake at each of two social occasions involving cake. At neither did I feel deprived by taking a small slice. Nor by not taking a second. When I've felt like snacking, I've had fresh fruit or some nuts. No all-day grazing or fourth and fifth meals. And all, so far, with hardly any struggle.
I've resumed weekly weighings, first thing every Sunday. As of this morning, I'm down 6 kg in the past four weeks. Not, of course, a sustainable pace. But I can't doing the arithmetic and plotting the trend-line in my head....
I'm writing this from the Newton Wegmans, where I've just eaten lunch. I ate breakfast around 09:00, and set off on some errands that took me into the wilds South of the Pike. (Where I discovered by first-hand examination that in 2015, down-market steel tool chests (which, starting at $200, are hardly cheap) are even chintzier than my worst imaginings. But also made the more benign discovery (by passed a sign for it) that Endicott house is in Dedham, rather than being close to the NH border, as I had always vaguely imagined.)
From the distant Southwest, I made my way past the vast herds of car dealers to Jamaica Plain, and thence to Chestnut Hill, where I indulged in the genuinely excellent experience of being a Container Store customer. And by the time I was finished there, I was definitely feeling it was time for lunch. But not quite desperately enough to eat at the Star Market next door. So I set out, thinking I'd find my way to the Pike and River Street Whole Foods, when what do I behold but a Wegmans! I had already been thinking "salad bar", and knew Wegmans would be as good as WFM, with the additional virtue of being here, now. Just as I came around the end of the salad bar, intending to top mine off with some shredded cheese, I beheld, not a dozen feet away, the donuts. And found myself heading for the display, thinking "one won't hurt."
(You have to understand that for someone like me, who grew up with real donuts, the land of Dunkin' is rather a desert. Less so now than it used to be, but I long ago got into the habit of keeping an eye out for real donuts whenever I ventured outside Dunkin's core territory. And I knew from my one previous trip to a Wegmans that they knew what a donut is. So even though it's no longer so parched where I live — Whole Foods now carries what are probably fine donuts, though at the price, I've never tried one. And Verna's donuts are as good as any I've ever had. I remain predisposed to see a chance at a real donut, especially one that catches me unprepared, as manna from heaven. Had I thought beforehand about the fact that Wegmans carries real donuts, it wouldn't have been an issue — no more than driving past Verna's or ignoring the baked goods at Whole Foods. But, unprepared as I was, these donuts called to me.)
But I paused on my way to the display, adding cheese to my salad as intended. And in the remaining few steps to the donuts, went "Neah. Not today." And just kept going. So my first incident of food calling-out to me in four weeks passed without my so much as opening the bakery case.