Author: Monica Reinagel, MS, LDN

We humans seem to need to be able to explain ourselves (and our behavior) to ourselves.

If we backslide or relapse, we want to be able to point to the reasons that we did not do–or stopped doing–what we intended to. We had an injury, a family member became ill, work got crazy, we got laid off…

These events definitely have an impact on us. However, I think they are usually not the real reason that we abandoned our efforts. It’s simply how we make sense of the story after the fact.

In reality, I think it comes down to the fact that some part of us decides that what we hoped to gain wasn’t worth what we would need to give up.

But the part of us that comes to this conclusion may not be working with actual facts. It may simply be defending the status quo. (See also: Ego defenses)

To that end, if you suspect that this belief (“What I have to gain isn’t worth what I’d have to give up”) is thwarting your progress, I encourage you to make two lists:

1. What I have to give up
2. What I stand to gain

Ideally, this exercise can happen in a judgment-free zone. Try to record your thoughts, beliefs, and feelings as completely and neutrally as possible.

If you have been in the Weighless community for a while, you might find it useful to review your own posts from earlier in the program–perhaps when you were excited about your progress. Or surprised that what you had to “give up” wasn’t actually as big a deal as you thought it would be. (Just click on your name in the forum to see a list of your own posts.)

And then, step back and view your lists as objectively as you can. Or reality-check them with a caring friend or coach. (Ahem.)

There are no wrong feelings. And you may document some legitimate challenges that need to be addressed or accommodated. But you may also discover some beliefs that don’t actually square with reality. Or thoughts that are both unhelpful and optional.

For most of us with a history of dieting, restriction is all too familiar, and has not proven to be very constructive.  But as they shed the dieter’s mindset, our Weighless members are embracing the more expansive concept of of restraint.  

At first glance, they may seem to be the same thing. But we’ve identified some crucial differences:

Restriction	Restraint
has an undertone of punishment: I’m atoning for “bad behavior.”	has a more positive connotation: I’m aligning my choices with my values or objectives.
is rule-driven. “I’m not allowed to have this.”	is awareness-driven: “What do I want/need right now?”
is more likely to be framed in absolutes: “I can’t ever have XYZ.”	feels more flexible: “What does this situation call for?”
often backfires: The more I enforce it, the more rebellion I feel.	Is self-reinforcing: The more I practice restraint, the easier and more natural it feels.
is often consequence-focused: “If I don’t restrict, I might ___________.”	is more reward-focused: “When I exercise restraint, I can ___________.”

Do any of those resonate for you?  What might you do to shift your approach from restriction to restraint?

We’ve talked about the value of planning and making decisions ahead of time. But the trick is not just to make the plan. The trick is to stick to the plan you’ve made.

Because I can almost guarantee you that however solid and reasonable your plan, when it comes time to execute it, your brain is going to rebel. It will argue that it doesn’t really matter whether or not you stick to your exercise schedule or  meal plan.  After all (your brain will say to you), you made the plan. You can change the plan. No big deal, right?

And the more often you throw the plan out the window, the easier that “no big deal” moment becomes. Each time you alter your plan, you empower the part of your brain that always wants to abandon the plan. 

The problem here is that your brain has (at least) two parts: A higher brain that’s looking out for your future well-being and a lower brain that favors immediate gratification.

Which part of your brain do you want calling the shots?

We often refer to that lower brain as our Inner Toddler. And just like a child testing limits, our lower brain is constantly testing to see whether it can get the higher brain to cave in on all those pesky, no-fun plans. But just as a child actually feels much safer and happier when they realize that there are limits that prevent them from doing whatever they want, you will feel so much calmer and more in control when you know that you can count on yourself to stick to the plan. And every time you do, you strengthen that part of your identity.

The art of planning

Whether you are planning your work schedule, your meals, your exercise, or any other habit, you may need to experiment to discover what level of detail is flexible enough to be realistic without being so flexible that it fails to keep you on track. But whatever level of detail you arrive at, it’s helpful to write it down. Because then when your lower brain starts negotiating, or you conveniently “forget” what the plan was, you can refer to that document and remind yourself, “Nope, this is the plan. End of discussion.”

At the first moment of rebellion, when your lower brain starts to argue that it doesn’t really matter whether you eat a salad or saltines for lunch, you calmly tell your lower brain, “No, we’re going to stick to the plan–simply because that’s what we planned. If we decide we don’t like this plan, we can make a different plan for tomorrow. But today, we’re following the plan. “

And then you follow through. You trust that what your higher brain planned for you was in your best interests.   When you’re tempted to have an unplanned snack or treat, remind yourself that your plan includes a snack and a treat. Just not this one and not right now.

So, you also want to be kind to yourself when you’re making your plans. You want to be looking out for your best interests, whether that’s finishing the work that needs to get done, or eating nutritious foods, or getting some exercise. But in addition to all of these ways of taking care of yourself, remember that your plan should also include ways of resting and relaxing, things to enjoy and look forward to.

It’s OK to plan a food treat, but remember there are lots of other ways that we can give ourselves small pleasures through the day, whether it’s a call with a friend, a nap, a half hour with a book or magazine, or an episode of a favorite show. When we include treats in our plan, it makes it much easier for us to resist momentary urges–because we know we have treats coming our way.

See what happens if you stick to your plan all day long. There may be a few bumps. You may feel a little grumbly at times. But at the end of the day, I want you to notice how it feels to have completed (most of) the work you meant to complete, to have eaten (pretty much) the way you intended to eat, moved your body (more or less) the way you planned to, to have enjoyed the treats that you selected for yourself–and to have both the pleasure of anticipating them as well as the pleasure of enjoying them.

Does it feel better or worse than you feel when you abandon your plan because it doesn’t seem appealing or important in the moment?

If you didn’t stick to your plan, think about why your plan failed. Was the plan too strict? Simply unrealistic? Maybe your work plan needs to include an extra hour to handle unexpected stuff. Maybe the meals you planned weren’t quite enough to satisfy your hunger.  Or, maybe you needed to leave a little more time for preparation. How can you adjust tomorrow’s plan to make it serve you even better?

Last night, we were sharing the Attention/Intention/Action in a workshop with some folks who are interested in joining the Weighless Program (many of whom subsequently enrolled–Welcome!!).

Those of you who have been around for a while will recall that we talk about the “6 Exits”; ways in which we tend to exit the behavior change cycle and stop moving forward. If we can identify where we are exiting the cycle, it can help us re-engage with the process in a more strategic way.

This morning, I found myself thinking about Exit #2: Stuck in data gathering mode. (Perhaps because this one is a recurrent issue for me!) And it occured to me that there’s a closely related exit that occurs at more or less the same place in the cycle. Let’s call it Exit 2a: Rumination.

If we are in rumination, we’re no longer gathering information, but we’re not moving foward into intention or action, either. We’re just running through the same thoughts over and over again. These nonproductive thought loops can act as a sort of anesthetic, making us numb to our our actual experience or desires.

Whether these thoughts are helpful or true isn’t even the point. The point is that we’re no longer moving foward. We’re not converting the insights into intentions or actions.

Is rumination (Exit 2a) a place where you may sometimes be exiting the cycle? And if so, can identifying that phenomenon help you re-enter the cycle?

You might find it helpful to imagine snapping a rubber band on your mental “wrist” to break the spell. (Or put an actual rubber band on your actual wrist, if that works better.) Try saying to yourself: That’s enough thinking for now. What’s the next step?

For a long time, I didn’t appreciate the difference between an urge and a desire. I thought they were the same thing. I assumed that the urge to eat or drink or do something meant that I really wanted to eat or drink or do that thing.

But as I’ve been working with my own urges (and yes, I still have to work with my urges), I’ve realized that urges and desires are not the same. Not by a long shot.

An urge can be triggered by totally random things. I see the butter dish out on the counter and I have a sudden urge for a piece of toast. I see an open bottle of wine in the fridge and I have an urge for a glass.

What follows is that familiar (and often unsuccessful) struggle to resist the urge. (Or, if you’re more advanced, to simply allow the urge without responding to it.)

The struggle can be uncomfortable. But some of that discomfort, I realized recently, resides in the belief that I really want or desire that thing.

It turns out (much to my astonishment) that sometimes an urge is just an urge. There’s actually very little authentic desire attached to it. It’s just a passing thought or impulse triggered by something in my internal or external environment. Or purely by habit.

And this has been a game changer for me. If I take a moment to investigate, I sometimes discover that my actual level of desire is pretty low. When that’s the case, and I consciously acknowledge it, moving on from that urge is much easier.

Try it and see what you find. When urges arise, instead of moving immediately into “resisting,” or arguing with yourself about whether or not to give in, take a moment to investigate your actual level of desire.

Do you really want that thing at this moment? Or is it just an urge?

We talk a lot about what we have to gain by becoming someone who weighs less. All the ways that would make our lives better. But it’s also important to explore what we will have to give up.

I’m not (only) talking about giving up behaviors or “bad” habits that we find pleasurable. I’m also talking about aspects of our identity, or things about our current lives that–as much as we may complain about them–we may actually be reluctant to let go of.

Here’s the thing I want you to consider: Your fears or beliefs about what you’d have to give up to become someone who weighs less may be irrational or exagerated. Then again, they may not. But as long as they remain below the surface of your awareness, they have outsized power to sabotage your efforts.

These unacknowledged anxieties may part of the reason that you’re always too “busy” to spend time with the weekly materials. Or the reason that you resist certain practices. The reason that you seem to be spinning your wheels.

So, let’s get these things out in the open, where we can examine them.

What would you miss about your current situation if you succeed in creating a new reality?

As I turned into the parking lot of my local grocery store, I could see that competition for parking spots was intense.

Cars were jockeying for position with their blinkers on, waiting for other shoppers to load their groceries and pull out. Others were circling like sharks, hoping to spot and claim an about-to-be-vacated spot before others could react. I could almost see the cloud of stress and frustration rising over the lot and rolling toward me.

With a feeling of relief, I banked to the right, headed to the furthest corner and pulled into one of dozens of empty spots. I collected my empty grocery bags, locked the car door, and because I happened to be wearing tennis shoes, jogged the 200 yards to the door of the grocery store.

But so what?

Opting out of the parking lot drama definitely reduced my stress level. But, let’s be serious: Will the extra dozen or so calories I burned by jogging in from the corner of the lot make any meaningful difference in terms of my weight? Of course not. But it’s not about the calories I’m burning. It’s about the mindset I’m creating.

Every time I purposefully choose a farther parking spot, or take the stairs, or jog across the street, I subtly reinforce (to myself) my identity as someone who chooses to be active, who makes healthy choices. And that spills over into so many other aspects of my life. Such as which foods went into the grocery cart once inside the store.

What we do, say, and think really does affect how we see ourselves. And how we see ourselves affects what we do, say , and think. It can be a virtuous cycle or a downward spiral.

So, the next time you find yourself questioning whether a tiny thing like parking further away from the door can ever really make a difference, remember that all of these small decisions add up to the person you are becoming. Spiral up, friends.

“I’ve realized that changing my habits doesn’t have to feel comfortable,’ a friend of mine recently wrote.  “It doesn’t have to be fun. it’s just necessary if I want to reap the benefits of healthier habits. And when I can see that discomfort as leading to what I want, it becomes a valued discomfort.”

A valued discomfort.

I’ve been turning that phrase over in my my head all week.

When we experience discomfort, we often take that as a sign that something is wrong. But sometimes discomfort is a sign that we’re doing something right.

What might be possible if you started to distinguish between discomfort that has value and the kind that doesn’t? If you started to welcome (or at least tolerate) the discomfort that’s necessary to create the future you want for yourself? 

What If you got better at choosing your discomfort?

Last night, I was with members of our Autumn 2021 cohort for Office Hours. We shared what was working and what we were finding challenging. There were moments full of feeling and there were raucous bursts of laughter. (You know the drill!)

As I looked at the circle of faces on my screen, I was filled with appreciation for these (you!) wonderful human beings: showing up for themselves and for each other, making time and space to push beyond the easy “solutions” (that never really work) and into that less familiar place where actual change happens.

The theme that emerged last night was one that runs through much of the program–how much more effectively we can respond to our needs (and desires) when we take the time to get clear on what we REALLY need (and want).

“See, this is what I HATE about this program,” one of them suddenly burst out. “And what I LOVE about it!

“There are other programs that will just give you the answer to any problem you bring up. Just ‘do this’ or ‘don’t do that’. But you guys always want to look at it more closely, and dissect it and figure out what’s really going on. And that’s what’s ultimately going to make real change happen. I know that’s true–even when I’m frustrated because you won’t just give me an easy answer.”

. . .

There seems to be a moment in every meeting where time momentarily stands still. That moment when I think to myself, “How did I get so lucky to be able to do this for a living?” And this was the one for me last night.

And it’s true: We have no pat solutions, no easy answers, no one-size-fits-all formula. We have a method, a process, tools. We have the magic that happens when people come together to support one another on a shared — yet unique — journey.

And the treasures we discover along the road to weighing less are sometimes nothing short of miraculous.