Five months in to the Shift, what started as a minute-by-minute struggle— always wondering when I could eat next— is still top of my mind, but it’s no longer the epic battle that it was when I started. It’s just my reality.
Eating much less becomes a point of private pride. I don’t walk around saying, “Look how little I put down my gullet today.” But as a woman who used to mindlessly snack and eat with abandon, consciously not eating is new and exciting.
Like a ballet dancer who happily chomps away at her celery sticks because she is dancing for the company of her dreams, I realize that there is freedom in the discipline I’ve imposed on myself.
I don’t feel like I am punishing myself, as I thought early on in the Shift. I am making choices, and every time I exert a healthy choice, I remind myself that I am free to be a different person from the one I was my whole life. Julie Andrews once said, “Some people regard discipline as a chore. For me, it is a kind of order that sets me free to fly.” I am not flying yet, but there are days when I think of how much weight I’ve lost and how good I feel, and my feet barely touch the ground.