Day Two
The thought that immediately followed "No sugar for a hundred days" was, "Tomorrow is Easter." But, honestly, there seems to be no one-hundred-day period in the course of a year that does not have something major for sugar opportunities in it. I gritted my teeth and pledged, "Nevertheless, one hundred days."
I would just have to be strong. I would have to have a foolproof plan and work that plan. I would immediately put my Easter candy, which I knew I was getting, into a Ziplock bag and hide it. I would make the bunny cake my daughter had requested, but I would not have any. It's not my favorite, anyway. I would just have to do without it.
And so, last night, as the Easter bunny visited, I reminded myself, over and over again, that I could not sneak anything into my mouth. No sugar means no sugar. It does not mean no sugar for a while, then sugar. Because once that green light is on, a huge pile-up can happen before it changes again. I am a grownup girl, and I can do this, need to do this.
So, this morning, right as my children began to enjoy their Easter baskets, I went to the kitchen and got out a big Ziplock bag, emptied everything but the hard-boiled eggs in my basket into the bag, and put it away, out of sight, where it will have to stay for ninety-nine days.
I ate the two hard-boiled eggs for breakfast. I thought about making it three, but then I remembered rule number two: no overeating. Two is my usual number of eggs for breakfast, and two is sufficient. If I don't start out strong, where will I end up? So, I am being strong.
Yesterday and today, I was super busy. I had a list of things to do longer than a page. Getting to the gym yesterday was on the list, but I was so busy with other things that I never got to it. Saturdays are always busy, and, with the morning activity and the coming holiday, I had extra things on the list. By the end of the day, I was exhausted. Bone-weary. I felt like I could hardly move another aching muscle. So I decided to sit down with my youngest boys and watch an Easter movie with them. I never spend enough time with them as it is. After the movie, I gave myself permission to go to bed. My body was screaming for it. So, I never got to the gym, but, other than that, I remained strong. When I got hungry, I would eat. An apple, a serving of leftovers, something good for me. I honored my needs and kept my rules.
One of the first things I needed to do this morning was to make the bunny cake. I used a white cake mix, and, though I would normally help myself to a lick or two of the batter, I did not. I put the cake in the oven and plunged the bowl and all the other implements immediately into water to soak.
I figured that my sensible, not-too-much eating all day yesterday was going to have taken a pound or two of my new weight off, and I was pleased to see that that was true--I was back to the number ending with an eight. I marked it on the poor weight-loss chart on my bathroom door that must feel like its head is spinning all the time.
I had bought myself an Easter dress that was on sale in the winter when I was buying a dress for my daughter's high school dance. It's a very pretty lacey blue. I bought it in an X-large, and I've worried about that several times over the months--surely that size would be too big for me by Easter. Obviously, we know now, I was wrong about that. I pulled it out of my closet and removed the plastic wrap. It was even prettier than I remembered.
With some trepidation, I put it on over my head and pulled it down. It went over me, but looking at myself in the mirror dashed my hopes. It went out larger and larger in lumps the further it went down. I looked like a blue poop emoji. I could not go out in public in it. Not yet. I pulled it off and hung it back up and wore an old outfit with a roomy long shirt and an elastic waist.
I was going to have to get up in front of everybody at church to play the organ for the meeting, and also to play for the ward choir. The song the choir sang was very special, and I love it, and have been practicing very hard for months to be able to play the tricky parts well and not ruin it for the choir. I could see I would have to be up in front of everyone in my old pink outfit instead of my beautiful new dress that I could not, today, look beautiful in. More humble pie for me to eat. Oh, well. I will wear it later--for Mother's Day, or my son's graduation. A future wedding, perhaps. In ninety-nine days, I will be slimmer, and I am looking forward to that.
After church, we gather as a family to do some more simple gospel study, and I have made this palatable to my teenaged children by including something to eat as we read and talk. I realized that, in my no-sugar mindset, I had forgotten to prepare for this, and I momentarily panicked. Then I remembered--everyone else had an Easter basket to snack from. They didn't need me to have prepared anything else. I grabbed a handful of almonds for my snack. Each time I avert what would normally be a sugar-eating opportunity feels like a small victory. Another obstacle avoided. How many will there be in one hundred days?
My college-aged daughter came down for Easter dinner and brought her boyfriend with her. So, much of the day was spent cleaning, as was yesterday, and cooking. I didn't want to go all-out with a ham or a turkey dinner, so I just made one of the nicer dinners on my regular rotation--a chicken dish with a sour cream/green chili sauce. I had picked up Rice-a-Roni to go with it for this lazy Easter, and I roasted asparagus for the vegetable. My newly-grownup son helped by making the Rice-a-Roni while I washed dishes (my dishwasher is on the blink), frosted and decorated the cake, and cooked the rest of the meal.
The cake mix makes two round layers, and the bunny cake only requires one layer, so this posed another problem. I intended to make two cakes and give one to my daughter to take home to share with her roommate, but I ran out of frosting, and, more importantly, coconut. So I ended up with a whole extra cake layer, cut in half and held together with frosting, that I would normally have found to be a perfectly adequate thing to nibble on or even breakfast on. I quickly put it into a Ziplock bag and kept busy with transforming the other layer into a white bunny with long paper ears, lying in what looks like a grass bed of Easter eggs.
I knew the moment I served the cake would get weird. I told my child to only get out seven dessert plates instead of eight, and braced myself. This cake is covered with coconut and served with jelly beans. I am sure the coconut is sugared, so there is no part of it that would be okay for me to eat. So, yes, there were questions. I calmly explained that I had bought myself an Easter dress that I could not wear, so I was going to avoid sugar for a while. It was a simple explanation that served to quell curiosity and did not get into the humiliation I was feeling, which is not their problem.
The cake was not as big a draw of temptation for me as the chocolate of my Easter basket, and "No Sugar" is no sugar, not some sugar. I was fine.
The after-dinner conversation in the living room turned too male for my tastes, as my daughter's boyfriend impressively discussed the making, the philosophy, the history, and the merits of each and every superhero movie ever made, it seemed, with my youngest sons. My daughter saved the day by asking if she could help me with cleanup. I would normally leave it until my guests were gone, but I caught on and agreed to meet her in the kitchen. No one involved in that conversation was going to miss me, and it provided my other daughter and son a chance to escape, as well. We got it all cleaned up, and I was, again, exhausted. Without doing any exercise other than a plank, I went to bed.
And I realized I had provided myself with a wonderful new mantra: "If I can do this on Easter Day, I can do it on any other day."
I would just have to be strong. I would have to have a foolproof plan and work that plan. I would immediately put my Easter candy, which I knew I was getting, into a Ziplock bag and hide it. I would make the bunny cake my daughter had requested, but I would not have any. It's not my favorite, anyway. I would just have to do without it.
And so, last night, as the Easter bunny visited, I reminded myself, over and over again, that I could not sneak anything into my mouth. No sugar means no sugar. It does not mean no sugar for a while, then sugar. Because once that green light is on, a huge pile-up can happen before it changes again. I am a grownup girl, and I can do this, need to do this.
So, this morning, right as my children began to enjoy their Easter baskets, I went to the kitchen and got out a big Ziplock bag, emptied everything but the hard-boiled eggs in my basket into the bag, and put it away, out of sight, where it will have to stay for ninety-nine days.
I ate the two hard-boiled eggs for breakfast. I thought about making it three, but then I remembered rule number two: no overeating. Two is my usual number of eggs for breakfast, and two is sufficient. If I don't start out strong, where will I end up? So, I am being strong.
Yesterday and today, I was super busy. I had a list of things to do longer than a page. Getting to the gym yesterday was on the list, but I was so busy with other things that I never got to it. Saturdays are always busy, and, with the morning activity and the coming holiday, I had extra things on the list. By the end of the day, I was exhausted. Bone-weary. I felt like I could hardly move another aching muscle. So I decided to sit down with my youngest boys and watch an Easter movie with them. I never spend enough time with them as it is. After the movie, I gave myself permission to go to bed. My body was screaming for it. So, I never got to the gym, but, other than that, I remained strong. When I got hungry, I would eat. An apple, a serving of leftovers, something good for me. I honored my needs and kept my rules.
One of the first things I needed to do this morning was to make the bunny cake. I used a white cake mix, and, though I would normally help myself to a lick or two of the batter, I did not. I put the cake in the oven and plunged the bowl and all the other implements immediately into water to soak.
I figured that my sensible, not-too-much eating all day yesterday was going to have taken a pound or two of my new weight off, and I was pleased to see that that was true--I was back to the number ending with an eight. I marked it on the poor weight-loss chart on my bathroom door that must feel like its head is spinning all the time.
I had bought myself an Easter dress that was on sale in the winter when I was buying a dress for my daughter's high school dance. It's a very pretty lacey blue. I bought it in an X-large, and I've worried about that several times over the months--surely that size would be too big for me by Easter. Obviously, we know now, I was wrong about that. I pulled it out of my closet and removed the plastic wrap. It was even prettier than I remembered.
With some trepidation, I put it on over my head and pulled it down. It went over me, but looking at myself in the mirror dashed my hopes. It went out larger and larger in lumps the further it went down. I looked like a blue poop emoji. I could not go out in public in it. Not yet. I pulled it off and hung it back up and wore an old outfit with a roomy long shirt and an elastic waist.
I was going to have to get up in front of everybody at church to play the organ for the meeting, and also to play for the ward choir. The song the choir sang was very special, and I love it, and have been practicing very hard for months to be able to play the tricky parts well and not ruin it for the choir. I could see I would have to be up in front of everyone in my old pink outfit instead of my beautiful new dress that I could not, today, look beautiful in. More humble pie for me to eat. Oh, well. I will wear it later--for Mother's Day, or my son's graduation. A future wedding, perhaps. In ninety-nine days, I will be slimmer, and I am looking forward to that.
After church, we gather as a family to do some more simple gospel study, and I have made this palatable to my teenaged children by including something to eat as we read and talk. I realized that, in my no-sugar mindset, I had forgotten to prepare for this, and I momentarily panicked. Then I remembered--everyone else had an Easter basket to snack from. They didn't need me to have prepared anything else. I grabbed a handful of almonds for my snack. Each time I avert what would normally be a sugar-eating opportunity feels like a small victory. Another obstacle avoided. How many will there be in one hundred days?
My college-aged daughter came down for Easter dinner and brought her boyfriend with her. So, much of the day was spent cleaning, as was yesterday, and cooking. I didn't want to go all-out with a ham or a turkey dinner, so I just made one of the nicer dinners on my regular rotation--a chicken dish with a sour cream/green chili sauce. I had picked up Rice-a-Roni to go with it for this lazy Easter, and I roasted asparagus for the vegetable. My newly-grownup son helped by making the Rice-a-Roni while I washed dishes (my dishwasher is on the blink), frosted and decorated the cake, and cooked the rest of the meal.
The cake mix makes two round layers, and the bunny cake only requires one layer, so this posed another problem. I intended to make two cakes and give one to my daughter to take home to share with her roommate, but I ran out of frosting, and, more importantly, coconut. So I ended up with a whole extra cake layer, cut in half and held together with frosting, that I would normally have found to be a perfectly adequate thing to nibble on or even breakfast on. I quickly put it into a Ziplock bag and kept busy with transforming the other layer into a white bunny with long paper ears, lying in what looks like a grass bed of Easter eggs.
I knew the moment I served the cake would get weird. I told my child to only get out seven dessert plates instead of eight, and braced myself. This cake is covered with coconut and served with jelly beans. I am sure the coconut is sugared, so there is no part of it that would be okay for me to eat. So, yes, there were questions. I calmly explained that I had bought myself an Easter dress that I could not wear, so I was going to avoid sugar for a while. It was a simple explanation that served to quell curiosity and did not get into the humiliation I was feeling, which is not their problem.
The cake was not as big a draw of temptation for me as the chocolate of my Easter basket, and "No Sugar" is no sugar, not some sugar. I was fine.
The after-dinner conversation in the living room turned too male for my tastes, as my daughter's boyfriend impressively discussed the making, the philosophy, the history, and the merits of each and every superhero movie ever made, it seemed, with my youngest sons. My daughter saved the day by asking if she could help me with cleanup. I would normally leave it until my guests were gone, but I caught on and agreed to meet her in the kitchen. No one involved in that conversation was going to miss me, and it provided my other daughter and son a chance to escape, as well. We got it all cleaned up, and I was, again, exhausted. Without doing any exercise other than a plank, I went to bed.
And I realized I had provided myself with a wonderful new mantra: "If I can do this on Easter Day, I can do it on any other day."
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