“Diet” is a word that I. Just. Hate.
It’s not a word I have no experience with — it’s just the opposite. I have too much experience with it. And they make me so mad. Literally. I am a monster when on a “diet” of some sort.
For me, food isn’t about “fueling my body for the day”. I’m not a fucking superhero (or cop. or firefighter. or really anything else but a mainly stationary model). I don’t really give a crap that food is purely about nourishment and somewhere along the lines we got all caught up in this “tasting good” thing.
I use food to be happy. I cook to make myself happy and to make others happy. “Emotional eating”??? That’s all I know.
Coming back from the most on/off hiatus that I’ve had on this blog, which basically lasted a few months, I think you can tell that I haven’t been completely excited about food. And it all has to do with that stupid, terrible, amazing, waist-changing diet.
As you may or may not know, I went *mostly* low carb for a couple months, and I can honestly say that I will never ever in my life count calories ever again. I don’t know what it was, really, but literally every single day since I cut them (cut them down, not out entirely, I’m not a machine), the weight just peeled off, in all the right places. And by “right places” I mean my face and midsection.
No one wants to hear a skinny girl talk about weight loss, I think. So maybe it would help you to know that I am always. fighting. the chub. It doesn’t help that I have such a love for food, either. Some models I work with, I truly think they could go a few days without chewing something, then at some fancy industry dinner, realize that they hadn’t eaten since last Wednesday. It just doesn’t cross their mind normally, so it isn’t something that consumes their life…like me.
I cheated. I had “cheat days”. But try to make your “cheat days” into just “cheat bites” or at the worst, a “cheat meal” and you will be pretty proud of yourself. It was really weird to go to bed not feeling weighed down, and this was still a feeling I only *sometimes* appreciated, as there is no feeling like curling into bed with a full belly. I love it. But waking up actually feeling hungry? And not just hungry, but kind of starving? That was new to me. And I liked it.
I am notorious for cravings, and commercials are MADE for bitches like me. I see it, I want it, I must have it. And on this low-carb crap (no matter how good it was to me, it shall ALWAYS be referred to as crap) I always ended a meal completely satisfied that I had just consumed all the flavors I wanted to.
No desserts, fruit instead. By the way, fruit is cheating. But when you are eating massive, sugary desserts originally, this diet should shut up and take what it can get. Bread, pasta and potatoes were the only definite no-no’s, and I 100% believe this is what did most of the damage, and by damage I mean awesomeness.
I think you will be happy to know that I still ate shit like this and felt physically better and lost weight:
What is this, you ask? Well after a day of running errands, I found myself at one of my favorite little spots to pop in, grab a drink, and have a bite, alone. Yes alone. I love eating alone, sitting at the bar. Maybe you’ve been, the place is called “Lure” and it’s right in the middle of soho. Despite being underneath the Prada store, and a bit on the nice side, they are incredibly welcoming and cool there, and have a mean happy hour.
I sat at the bar, in the beginning stages of this diet. I asked the bartender what his favorite fish was. He asked me what my favorite fish was, as this is the more obvious question. I replied, “I dunno. I hate fish.”, which isn’t totally true, but I sure love my dramatics. Then he said, “Well, why the hell are you gonna order it?”. TOUCHÉ, SIR.
I explained my sob story about how murdering thieves stole my parents right out of my home right as we were in the middle of family game night, where we ate pasta and and garlic bread and played scrabble and how they judo-chopped my dining room table and, just before stealing my parents, threw the plate of pasta at me and said, “never eat carbs again, bitch, or we will be back for you.” No that isn’t true but it sounds a lot better than, “I have a photoshoot.”
He said, “Oh honey, you are not the only one”, and asked the chef to make me a breadless burger. And then I enjoyed one of the most wonderful “burgers” I had ever had. Not just there, but anywhere. And did I eat the obviously-cheating onion rings up top? You bet I did.
My point is– and if you are new to this blog, I’ll just go ahead and let you know know that the point only comes after paragraph after paragraph of incessant rambling and random stories– that we are all human. We all want to enjoy or bodies and be proud of ourselves, but we also need to enjoy what we eat. It’s not an either/or, and these past few months have helped me figure that out.
Missed you all. I’m back.