Yesterday was a good day. I had lost most of the weight I gained on Saturday; I ate about 2300 calories (not perfect, but definitely not a bad amount); I even got a 2-mile walk in during my lunch break. So I stepped on the scale this morning with high hopes. Instead, I’m up 1.2, which was not only a nice “what the fuck” moment, but also makes my weight officially no different than seven days ago.
In the grand scheme, this is no big thing. I had my 5000-calorie Saturday, which I’m sure was no help. There is a level of frustration though. More accurately, there’s a level of being pissed off. Yesterday was a good day. I felt more satisfied and I was in a better mood, so to not see that tangible evidence is a bitch.
But I’m keeping things in perspective. I’m not heading to the Jack in the Box to eat away the pain. Fuck that; it’s stay the course, like George W. Bush, but with a lot fewer dead people. I won’t kill more than a couple people, tops. So today I just do what I did yesterday, and the day before, and not so much the day before that. It’s just about making the best choices for me and all that sappy shit that sounds lame but is still true.
So it’s on to the next!
Breakfast:
Two eggs, two pieces Dave’s Killer, Tapatio
Lunch:
Hummus plate leftovers, Easy Mac
Snack:
Two bananas
Dinner:
Miso soup, edamame, California rolls (Krab, not Krab salad with shitty mayonnaise)
Dessert:
Yocream, 1 mini-cinnamon bun, strawberries, Oreo crumbles, 1 tbsp hot fudge
Just gotta remember this fat asshole.
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