I have been pretty good the last 2.5 weeks. Actually, I have been really good. Exercising pretty much every day, not drinking wine, making healthy choices (mostly). But this week I am having some troubles because I am experiencing a bit of PMS. I know you understand. I tried to explain it to DH and although he tries to be sympathetic, he just doesn’t get it. The urge to eat is so strong. It doesn’t come from hunger. It comes from this evil, dark place deep within.
I don’t like to call my journey a “diet.” I like to refer to it as getting healthy. Changing my habits. Exchanging the bad for good. I’m hoping to trick my brain into enjoying and preferring a salad for lunch over a ham sandwich with a side of chips. When I lose this extra weight, I do not intend to fall back into my bad habits again. Of course, I will allow myself a burger and fries. But only sometimes. I know if I completely deprive myself, I’m just setting myself up for failure. It’s like telling a lion he can’t have meat anymore. I am a carnivore. I need my fix. That’s just the way it is.
Yesterday evening my brother paid us a surprise visit. He lives in North Carolina and I usually only see him once a year. So it was a really great surprise. The plan for dinner was a healthy meal with whole wheat pasta, peas and kale. My brother is also a carnivore. And I knew that just wasn’t going to cut it. So, I went to the store and bought some steaks, baking potatoes and beer. While I was there, I picked up a bag of freshly made sour cream and onion potato chips. I had the kid with me and her 14 year old self wanted them. Two things to never do when going food shopping: bring a teenager and go hungry. I broke the two cardinal rules of grocery shopping in one day. Shame on me.
While I was making the salad, I partook in the activity of having a chip. Or 2. Or 3. What could it hurt? At dinner, I made myself a sweet potato instead of a baked potato which would have otherwise been slathered in butter and sour cream, had a small piece of steak and a big salad. That part went well. But bro was having a beer. Who am I to make him drink alone? He was a guest in my home after all. So I asked DH to make me a cocktail. Then another. And another.
I even said to him that I would regret this in the morning. And I did. I’m afraid to step on the scale. Well, I’m not going to step on the scale because it will make me angry. It just tears my ass knowing that those 3 chips (ok maybe 7, not to mention the cocktails) most likely added a pound or possibly more.
I guess I will just have to double up on the workouts and eat really, really sensibly for the rest of the week. The worst week of the month in a woman’s life. No cocktail, no chips, no piece of chocolate, no steak. None of it for me. But that lion in me is not happy. Roar. Why couldn’t I be a goat?