First things, first: I’ve broken through another goal! I’m now down 72.2 pounds. Now for the blog…

Heaven on earth with an onion slice.

Today is, in fact, National Cheeseburger Day, and no one praised the virtue of the cheeseburger better than Jimmy Buffet.

In fact, the beginning of the song talks about how he watched his diet intake for nearly 70 days — but dreamed of cheeseburgers.

Tried to amend my carnivorous habits.
Made it nearly seventy days,
Losin’ weight without speed, eatin’ sunflower seeds,
Drinkin’ lots of carrot juice and soakin’ up rays.

But at night I’d have these wonderful dreams
Some kind of sensuous treat.
Not zucchini, fettuccini, or bulgur wheat,
But a big warm bun and a huge hunk of meat.

Cheeseburger is paradise.
Heaven on earth with an onion slice.
Not too particular, not too precise.

 

I can relate. I’ve made it past two years, and while I don’t subsist on sunflower seeds and carrot juice, I do have food cravings. Sometimes, they’re very strong. It’s not like they’ve disappeared just because I’ve been successful on a diet.

A few weeks back, I wanted nothing more than a cupcake with four inches of frosting on it, which I don’t believe is on anyone’s diet, unless they need to gain weight — and even then, I think they’d choose other methods. I also crave things I can have, but in limited supply; I want them more often than my body allows.

Like a big, juicy cheeseburger, for instance, stacked with pepper jack or cheddar cheese oozing down the sides, sauteed onions, crispy bacon, tomatoes, maybe even some sauteed mushrooms. And yes, a bun! Perfect if it were rye bread, but a sourdough or regular bun will do just fine.

My husband and I belong to a club that holds its monthly meetings in a bar and grill that serves really good cheeseburgers; big ones, juicy, with whatever you want on them. And while I could technically eat one with no bun, the caloric content would be so high that I’d barely be able to eat anything else for the rest of the day. I’d have to be satisfied with half of one, and while I could do that, my economical nature screams at the idea of paying that kind of money for half a hamburger and throwing away the other half — along with the fries. Plus, there’s just something about restaurant food that keeps me from losing; perhaps it’s the amount of salt, eating later than usual, or some unknown item that’s used to add taste to food but might not truly be allowed on my plan.

So every time I walk in the door, there, I end up with a choice: eat that hot, juicy, flavorful chunk of meat, cheese, and bacon, and fuss at the results on the scale in the morning, or choose more wisely, and hope that the scale remains the same or goes down a bit.

Don’t believe for a second that I don’t crave good food. In fact, as a longtime dieter, if I plan a cheat meal and it turns out to be disappointing, I feel absolutely ripped off. If I’ve gone outside of my normal parameters, I want every taste to be savory and worth the probable setback. Every single meal, especially the ones I eat out, becomes a choice between good and evil; or more accurately, between a reason to be proud of myself, or more self-loathing. My metabolism is slow enough that I have had to accept that even the smallest deviation means I’ll pay for it in one way or another.

I can sit around and boohoo about it being so unfair that I can’t occasionally enjoy a treat without consequences, but that’s the way it is; no different than anyone else who is restricted in some way from being able to enjoy something they truly like, and not necessarily food. There are cat lovers who are allergic to cat hair; outdoor lovers with bad reactions to mosquito bites. I’ve learned that it’s give-and-take. If I choose the cheeseburger, I choose the consequences of having it — the risk of a higher number on the scale, fair or not.

The good side of this is that I no longer eat mindlessly. I record everything I eat and drink, so simply sitting around and snacking on something that’s not on my diet, and shrugging it off, just isn’t part of my world. When I do occasionally satisfy that yearning for food that’s not on my plan, I choose everything with care, and I don’t bother with things that are mediocre. I want every bite to be worth taking. If I find something disappointing, I’m likely not to finish it at all, whereas before, I’d still eat that half-cold mound of fries or that bland piece of cake.

If I step on the scale after a well-planned cheat that’s worth every bite, and the scale is higher than I want, I’m not shaken by it; I know that otherwise, I have every reason to be proud and strong in what I’ve accomplished, and to continue on that track. If I step on the scale after a mindless cheat that I’m in denial about, and I already feel bad for losing control, and I see a higher number on the scale, I’ve done more than set myself back physically; I’ve penalized myself mentally. Enough of that, and I’m in danger of going off plan altogether — and my self-worth goes down because I’ve lost control over my body.

Being successful is full of constant head games like this, but in the long run, it’s about the small choices we make every day.