When last I weighed-in, I was at 264.
This morning, back on my regular Friday weigh-in schedule (and with new batteries in the scale) I was … 264. Which, I suppose, I should be pretty happy about, all things considered.
You see, I’ve been, well, less-than-diligent about my eating. Not that I was eating all that much more (although I have been eating 10-15 % more than I was in the summer), but I’ve been eating whatever was on the menu instead of demanding my whole grains and such. Cleaning the plate at the chain restaurants and all that.
And there was that 3/4 of a pecan pie I ate the day after Thanksgiving.
So. I’ve been given a pass on the last month or so. That won’t last. Back on the intentional eating wagon.
And I use the “on the wagon” reference intentionally as well. While I’ve never been cursed with addiction to alcohol (although for a goodly number of years I wasn’t a particularly responsible drinker), drugs, cigarettes, etc., I’m pretty sure my behavior with food bears a striking resemblance to the sort of thing people often use twelve steps to get past. Nervous? Grab a donut. Excited? Pizza! Anxious? Think I’ll finish this pie. You get the picture.
This whole losing-weight, living-healthier thing takes constant maintenance. Not just one day at a time, or even one meal at a time, but one forkful at a time. When I pay attention – when I eat intentionally – good things happen. When I don’t, a cardiologist somewhere is getting ready to ring up the cash register.
So, on the wagon it is. And my running shoes are mocking me, so I need a plan for them as well.
For now, if you’re keeping score at home, that’s 38 weeks, 23 pounds.
Thanks for reading!
Skipping Dessert 