I feel as though, for the last few weeks, I’ve been working for the weekend and it’s a cycle I’m already tired of. It goes like this:
Weigh in on Friday (hope and pray I’ve been “good” enough to see a loss or at the very least no gain)
Have a pretty good Friday as I don’t eat anything until at least noon.
Saturday-Entertain company or have an event. Try to eat a sensible, low point breakfast to counter the gluttony. Sometimes the “gluttony” isn’t awful. It never seems like a lot of food, but it’s usually something that’s high in points. A regular sized croissant is 6 points. A single serving of cake of only 3 oz (and I bet the last piece of cake you ate was bigger than that) is 9 points. Learning how to spend my points wisely isn’t always easy.
And then its most company on Sunday and maybe a questionable breakfast choice.
And then Monday dawns and I climb on the scale. I’m up four pounds since Friday. Simple math says that’s probably impossible especially since I’ve tracked my food and I know there’s no possible way that I’ve consumed 28,000 EXTRA calories. I might have consumed 7500 extra calories over the weekend and I’ve certainly had too many carbs and too much sugar. I tighten the belt and toe the line.
I do this for three of the next four days, usually finding that I’m hungry one day and just need to eat my points.
If I’m lucky on Friday morning, I’ll have lost a little weight. If I’m unlucky, I won’t be able to get the weight off and be slightly miserable or very miserable.
This week, I went into weigh in and gained back the .2 I lost the week before. I tried to repeat my mantra; that a few days of being a saint doesn’t erase all the sin. That weight loss is about prolonged effort over time. I tried to remind myself of the forward progress I had made, but I admit it. I was disappointed that another week slipped by without the results I had hoped for.
But, the results are mine to control. Aren’t they? I mean, I’m in control of the effort I put in. I’m in control of how much time I exercise or don’t. I’m in control of how many servings I have or how large of a portion I eat. All those things are mine to control and despite having this earth shattering revelation a few weeks ago, I’ve not yet taken complete control over what goes in my mouth or what I do with my body. I’m still fighting. The old me is rebelling this overwriting and the new me just isn’t confident enough yet to take a stand, but I keep encouraging her to try.
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