Here it is, day 8, and these are my feelings about IF: it might be for the birds.
Any program that causes me to constantly think about a subject I loathe, viz. food, is not exactly right for me. (Long ago I saw an episode of Happy Days wherein Fonzie told Ralph Malph that he should join the French Foreign Legion. Ralph was all set up to set off; no one else could talk him out of it. Finally Richie persuaded Fonzie to tell Ralph he was wrong to advise Ralph so. Fonzie RELUCTANTLY agreed, but every time he tried to tell Ralph he’d been wrong he could only say, “I was ruh-ruh-ruh.” Eventually he said, “I was Not Exactly Right.” Henceforth the phrase not exactly right is code in my home for ruh-ruh-ruh.)
The way I can tell IF is not exactly right for me is that I HAVE NOT LOST A POUND. I mean to say, at least I lost one pound when I gave up sugar. I’m always thinking about food—when I can eat, what I can eat. Had there been weight loss it would have been a sufficient reward for constant consideration of this distasteful subject.
Yesterday I discovered that eating vegetables along with every meal was a good way to fill up and stay full for several hours. Shouldn’t have had to think about food, right? Not exactly right. Vegetables fill me up uncomfortably full. Eat fewer … eat less of this and more of that … eat at these two hours … blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. I’m truly sick of it.
Is a full week a good enough test? Don’t feel better. Don’t look better. Don’t weigh less.
When I was supposed to take a new medication (back in the day when I tried medication for depression—not exactly right!) and the symptoms were too awful to live through the night, I’d only give it a 24-hour shot. I’ve given IF eight times longer than that.
Because I struggle on a daily basis with depression, that demands my attention—though it’s also a distasteful subject. Peace of mind is more desirable (never thought I’d say this) even than being thinner-than-I-presently-am.
Think I’m going to give up on IF.