Food guilt

I went to the gym and did my session as planned. All week I have been the ever diligent calorie counter limiting myself to about 1500-1700 calories a day as instructed by my trainer. The pounds are coming off, as is the fat apparently, when we checked my body fat percentage and weight. 2.5% decrease in body fat, 5 point decrease in BMI, 13 lbs and counting. A glorious feat in roughly 2 weeks.

I left, went to run errands, and came home. I should have been happier but for some reason, I wasn't. There's this fear that keeps creeping into my mind. It was a thought at first and, like a virus, it's quickly infected my brain. When will the loss stop? When will my body decide to stagnate again? My mind is contemplating all the what ifs and possibilities that may or may not happen should my body betray me. It's awful. What's worse is, Saturday night is my free meal. The one meal of the week I can eat a plate of whatever I choose without guilt. Maybe it's pizza or a burger and fries from some disgusting place I have been dreaming about. Whatever the case, it is my one designated meal to turn off the calorie counter and fully enjoy eating something I love but no longer allow into my diet on a regular basis.

Surely, this would be enough to make anyone who loves food as much as I do, feel ecstatic. But it didn't. In fact, I felt guilty. I had baked chicken with broccoli and brown rice for lunch. I had a protein shake a few hours later to kill the hunger. Dinner time had long since passed. And still, I sat in my house debating whether I should even get whatever it is I might want...for HOURS. I finally threw on my jeans, grabbed my wallet, and headed to the car. I want a burger and fries from someplace. This will be my free meal and that's all there is to it.

I got it. I plated it. I sat down and ate it trying to savor the flavors to no avail. The guilt washed over me in waves that could have made Hurricane Katrina look like a tropical storm. I mean honestly, who feels this guilty about eating a fucking burger and fries?! The answer is I do. 30 minutes after the fact I feel as if my thighs have exploded and my stomach has grown to the size of a woman carrying an 8 month old fetus. I'm not sure why I feel such guilt. It's just food. Or maybe it's not. I don't know that I've ever felt this strangely about food. I don't like this and it scares me. Does the food torture ever stop?