Starting Over, South Beach Style

26Sep11

Stupid, stupid weather.

I blame the heatwave. Actually, I blame a lot of things aside from last summer’s scorching 100-degree days mixed with humidity here in the Northeast, but the heatwave is particularly at fault.

At the time it hit, I had developed a steady pattern of cooking my meals. But, when you’re in a NY apartment and can’t afford a $500 electric bill, cooking over a hot stove in a 90-something degree interior doesn’t gonna cut it (unless you consider sweating into your food totally acceptable). When dire, hot hellish heat hits, you do your damndest to get out of the house and head just about anywhere that has free air-conditioning: movie theaters, restaurants, or maybe the ex you rarely talk to but don’t mind hanging out with on the grounds of cool air you can fall asleep in.

This is not me during a heatwave.

Yeah.

And, here’s where the problem started: I went to McDonalds and Starbucks, where the former’s dollar menu wreaked havoc on my systems and the latter’s baristas came to know me so well that I could expect a nightly sugar bomb in the form of pastry or super-sweetened drinks.

Thanks to McDoubles and extra foamy whip, what little weight I had shed in late spring came back, with a few extra visitors. To my horror, my stomach bulged again. My larger T-shirts weren’t so forgiving. And, I couldn’t fit into some of my jeans without an unsightly roll making itself apparent with a disproportionate amount of cake top (I was definitely past muffin at that point).

Which where the second culprit comes in: Hurricane Irene, which forced me to stay home. Due to cabin fever compounded by my already lousy outlook, I ate worse- chocolates, pierogis, and generally any carb guaranteed to insulate my rear end better than padding at a loony bin.

And, I felt sick- the first time that, to my knowledge, that I’d ever really had it with food. I hated eating. Worse, I was starting to notice that I was beginning to get out of breath a little too easily over some short distances.

Regardless of the weather, I had to do something different.

The beauty of starting over is that it’s just that: you can always do it. If you must, just do it. And, I was someone who just needed to hit a “STOP” button so I could assess where I needed to go. Enough was enough; I felt gross, sick, and disgusting, and I was sick of carping on myself. I didn’t have enough emotion leftover for a temper tantrum, but enough to pick up a dusty, dog-eared copy of the South Beach Diet from where it was squished between an issue of Vogue and an astrology book.

I read. More importantly, I quizzed my friends and acquaintances about the diet. Would I have to give up rice? Would I feel starved and lacking any substance? Would I feel like a depraved animal ready to maim with this so-called eating plan?

I was afraid that the answers would be yes, especially on the last count.

Fortunately, I heard positive reviews about it. And, my snarly, moody self wasn’t too bogged down by a pity party to respond to a challenge: surely, could I do three days of South Beach diet’s Phase One? No carbs, no sugar except for substitutes, and as low fat as possible. In the thick of PMS, I went for it.

Three weeks later, I sit here astonished at having turned my appetite around.

Generally, I don’t succeed at diets. And I hate anything that tries to prescribe what to eat down to the specifics of a recipe. But, once I understood the broad parameters- what foods to avoid, what was permissible- I felt a freedom to monkey around and combine things that I never would have thought to do. Financially, I was okay- what I didn’t spend on bread or pasta simply went to veggies and lowfat cheese (yes! YES!).

And, three days into it, I was astonished that my carb/sugar cravings are vastly reduced. At three weeks later, I’m still surprised.

I can’t say I’m hugely perfect, though- I still love caffeine, and am not one to go without one cup of coffee or a latte on the weekend; I just go at it without the high-fat milk or half-and-half (which I dearly, dearly miss). But for the most part, the South Beach diet has curbed 80% of my more destructive, unhealthier impulses. I no longer crave ice cream at night, or have the urge to mow through a whole carton. And by eating a stable protein breakfast with some veggies thrown in, I don’t catch my blood sugar going all over the place.

And, I can see my belly fat going away.

The beauty of this diet is that it’s introduced me to parameters that make me feel good about myself. And, it’s from this point that I’m happy to announce that I’m resuming this blog. I’ve got a bunch of new tips and things to share, and I can’t wait to write more when time permits

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Tags: eating, eating better, heatwave, hurricane Irene, Lex's insight, losing belly fat, losing weight, South Beach, South Beach diet