The Struggle Begins Again

In eight years, 30 pounds of that 70 weight loss have crept back on. Even though I make every effort to avoid the evil carbs, I've fallen off the wagon a dozen times.   I get tired of being a high-maintenance eater and I decide I can actually JUMP off the wagon and eat like a normal person. Then everything starts to get tighter and I get back on Atkins induction. I lose 6 or 10 pounds, get a little relaxed, think I can just not eat carbs and BAM. It creeps back on at a dizzying speed.


My fat jeans are now size 14s and my 12s are tight. 10s are a pipe dream. And my lovely single-digit sized jeans, the pair that made my 8-year-old daughter exclaim 'Mom you look like a teenager!!' the night I fit into them, sit folded on an upper shelf of my closet. They are the goal jeans to end all goal jeans. They fit me that brief single-digit summer for about a month.

They mock me. Daily.


I can't seem to get a foothold, can't get in the zone of the low-carb biology. And it isn't because of cheating. As of two days ago, I had not had a carb, not a single illegal, illicit, or questionable carb, in four solid weeks. Not a chip, not a nibble of bread, not a kernel of popcorn. One week of Fat Fast, two weeks of induction, then another week of induction has yielded me a net loss of 6 pounds. Or 4 pounds. Or 6 pounds. Or 8 pounds. It depends on the morning.

Maybe my scales are broken.