My jeans were starting to feel a little tight in the waist, not in the butt or thighs, or places where they usually get snug after coming out of the dryer, just the waist. Logical mind thought, maybe I'll shop for some new jeans and size up. Lunatic mind thought, "This is it! The menopausal potbelly has arrived." Followed seconds later by, "No, wait! I'm pregnant?!?!?" Followed quickly by, "...with a food baby! Maybe you ought to lay off the nachos and ice cream..." blah, blah, blah, restrictive nonsense.
The interesting part is that I didn't DO anything. I watched the mental train wreck unfold with genuine curiosity. I didn't try to reason, dismiss, or distract myself from these thoughts. It was more like, "Hmmm, look at brain go. It's really on a roll here. Isn't it interesting how it still does that?" And then I kept doing exactly what I'd been doing all along - eating what I want until I'm satisfied, eating to feel good, moving to feel good, and generally taking great care of myself. What else is there to do? Being a fearful, reactive jerk to myself isn't solution to anything. It's the problem. My brain is just offering up all the old responses I taught it when I didn't know any better. (Insert Oprah and Maya Angelou talking about, " When you know better, you do better.")
Anyway, no action was taken, days went by, and whatever water, sodium, hormonal thing that was going on there resolved itself. It makes me wonder how many times in the past I noticed a "problem" with my body or my eating, told myself a terrible story, and flew down that rabbit hole of restriction without a second thought. Dozens? Thousands? Then, not only did I have the original issue, I had bonus extreme hunger, volatile moods, binge urges, and bone-weary fatigue to go with it, which would create many new problems requiring many new freakouts and restrictions.