The Hillhouse

The Journey of a Mother and Son

Atkins Three Weeks In February 4, 2013

Filed under: An Ongoing Journal... — wingmother @ 10:01 am
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Hoo boy. Feeling a bit disappointed, and frankly, a little ashamed to admit I can’t tell any appreciable difference in my weight this week from last. It seems I’ve dropped a single pound, but on my cheapo scale I really can’t be sure. Anyway, it’s kinda hard to see the exact line from five feet up. Probably should invest in a digital scale – but that’s a luxury I don’t really need. I’ll be able to see well enough when that needle passes the next milestone. While I was feeling a heavy dose of self pity this morning, I’m regrouping again and taking heart. Hey, at least I’m not going up anymore. I gotta remind myself that I’ve learned a lot about food in general, and how to spot those ubiquitous carbs. I’ve become sensitive to quantity and portion size too, and all of this is good. And if nothing else, I’ve got an audience for my process, so I’m a bit more motivated to report success.

The difference this week? I strayed from the diet a couple of times. After the ‘helicopter kiosk at the mall’ incident I allowed myself one comforting sip of Orange Crush and a bite of pita bread. I know, that doesn’t sound bad, but again… the Atkins ‘experts’ warn that a bite – even a taste – of something sweet or carb-laden can throw your body back into a glucose-burning machine just like that. To recap: the idea of this diet is to transform your body from a sugar burning engine to a protein and fat burning engine. Apparently, your body jumps at the carbs cuz they’re easier, quicker energy. Makes sense. But man, staying the course is not easy. Atkins fans like to say how great the selections are, how full you feel, etc, etc… but in the bigger picture it’s really kind of a drag. But I remind myself that it’s a good time of year to restrict my diet like this. Not a lot going on, and with winter still here it’s the perfect time to do the metamorphosis/chrysalis thing. So onward I go.

I also broke down and took some cold medicine this week – a handful of times. I’m nearly two weeks from the worst part of it, but my cold still lingers and the amount of mucus I’m producing is downright annoying. Sleeping was harder than usual too. Had to do something. I also made one rather landmark transgression: I had a very small glass of wine. And I mean small. But again, probably enough to mess with the pure induction ketosis thing. (I was at a friend’s art gallery opening and having a wonderful time meeting people and chatting. I figured the quality of life thing superceded the diet in that moment. I’m still not overly concerned. Hey – two and a half weeks without a drink is HUGE for me.) 

Boy my confidence is a tenuous and fragile thing. This morning I was absolutely crestfallen. But now after collecting my thoughts on paper, my spirits are renewed. What I’ve managed to do – and the temptations I’ve managed to resist – are tiny successes. And tiny is something. While I may never again have the tiny body I did when in my twenties, I am nonetheless happy to be just a bit tinier than I was three weeks ago.