I threw a bit of a temper tantrum this morning.
No one heard - I didn't
ACTUALLY yell - but I was running late
AND nothing fit right
AND the damn scale told me I weighed exactly the same amount as I did last week. Despite eating properly (except for a Butterfinger yesterday... and that donut I discovered as part of a fundraiser for Special Olympics) and exercising (except for those two days I took off when I was busy).
See, I've lost about 25 pounds since January first.
Which is great and I bought new clothes and people said all sorts of nice things. Which one might think is a reason to celebrate. UNTIL I CONSIDER I NEED TO LOSE 25 MORE POUNDS. According to some chart in my doctor's office, taking 25 more pounds off would put me at the top range of "healthy weight" for someone my height. So, I suppose I really need to lose 30 more pounds so there's some sort of buffer. Whatever.
In a way, it's kind of like letting someone who has just run a half-marathon stop for water and stretch and then pushing them along their way. Of course, I realize that must be done if said runner is ever going to finish said marathon, but I might just start crying.
And even worse than the fact that the scale barely seems to budge anymore is the fact that these khakis I bought NOT EVEN THREE WEEKS AGO don't fit. Without a belt, they literally slide right off my hips while buttoned and zipped. Cinched up with a belt, they look completely ridiculous - like those boys who "sagged" their jeans so far in middle school that the principal gave them rope to use as a belt. My khakis were a little loose when I bought them but now -- can't wear them.
Of course, I realize something (not bad) must be happening to my body if clothes are fitting differently. And despite mentions of Butterfingers and skipped workout, I have been staying on track with a few little splurges - not falling
off the bandwagon. But still, sometimes I can't help but feel frustrated that this isn't easier.
The signs that I must keep going are all around me.
Yours Truly Trayce called upon a Janis Joplin quote when she wrote about being in a similar place: "Don't compromise yourself. You're all you've got." She's right; I can't give up on myself just because things get harder. (Sigh).
And then
Leanne talked about drinking tons of water. I
HAVE been choosing coffee and Diet Coke over water too often lately. So much so that I bought Visene because my eyelids seemed to be sticking to my contacts after 6 p.m. or so. Surely that's a sign of dehydration, right?
And then
another 3-Day blogger wrote about not accepting excuses. And so did
MakeUnderMyLife. And I know that even though I haven't been living unhealthily, I don't have anything but excuses for not digging deeper and trying harder. So, yeah, I'll shut up and get on with it all ready...
What said, "Failure to plan is a plan to fail"? And "It's never too late to do the right thing..."?
Were they people who were trying to rub it in? Because once I made one bad eating decision yesterday, it MULTIPLIED with alarming ferociousness.
It started with me purchasing an egg-white breakfast sandwich and bagel with cream cheese at Dunkin' Donuts on my way to a long eight-hour thing. Not a bad decision all by itself - the sandwich was going to be breakfast, the bagel lunch. Only I ate both on the way to the thing.
Then, I skipped lunch and wanted to GOUGE MY EYES OUT by 3 p.m. or so when that woman was still talking about her personal experiences and not anything useful. I sought comfort in the vending machine (emotional eating, I know) and - just because God likes to laugh - the machine accidentally gave me two packages of cookies. With about 550 calories in each package.
I threw one package away, consumed the other one and then went back for some pretzels. And Diet Coke. Only the machine sent out regular Coke. Which I drank.
And by that time, there was no salvaging the day. My ankle is slightly sprained, so there's no working out for me. And I went out, blithely had a few (calorie-filled) cocktails and swung by Taco Bell on the way home. (I'm too embarrassed to say what I ate, but thanks to Taco Bell's
nutrition calculator tool, I can tell you it was 709 calories. Not counting the adult beverages.)
But today is a new day. As is tomorrow, and Tuesday. Back on the bandwagon I climb, after treating myself to a medium Shamrock Shake (550
calories, 120 from fat) for lunch...
(I totally didn't know this until just now, but the Shamrock Shake has a connection to the first Ronald McDonald house. Not that it justifies bad nutrition, but it mitigates it just a tad until my next date with the elliptical machine, right? No, I didn't really think so, either.)
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