I’m going to sound like one of those people you hate if I complain right now, because I’ll be honest, I’m still down on the weight. I’ve gone down to 17lbs off this fat ass of mine this month, but I’m disappointed. I thought I could’ve had a far better week. I mean, I’ve eaten chips, like a whole bag, too, and there’ve been those little chocolate bars around… Sigh.
It’s not about the number, it’s really not. If it was, I could sit here smugly and just go “I’m down 17 pounds! Nyah-nyah!” but it’s not about the number. It’s about being healthy. It’s about not eating shit like chips. I know I’m gonna falter here and there, but I’ve faltered too many times this week, AND I’m not eating quite as healthily as I want to be.
However, I’m not going to continue riding my own ass about this. I’m going to let myself off the hook and go “well, thank god for the number!” A little easier to make lemonade out of this, right? But I gotta wonder how much I might’ve lost had I been as healthy as I wanted to be this week. PLUS, I’ve not been exercising. I’m actually pretty pissed at myself for that.
So, there’s next week. Good. And no candy-focused holiday to fuck me up, right? Whew. Oh, and it’s been my time of the month, too. That always helps. Okay, so it’s through no small miracles that I’m still down another 3 or so pounds this week. That no-butter thing is pretty huge. I’m certainly more conscious of what other fats I have, and I’m pretty sparing on it.
I can improve. I will. This is a little reckonings of sort. And sometimes I plan to be bad on purpose, like the popcorn I’m intending to have at the theatre tonight. Die Hard and no popcorn? Good god! The travesties!
But dinner last night was oatmeal and fruit. Breakfast this morning, more of the same, with a side of vitamins. Lunch will be suitably restrained. Tomorrow I do the fun hike up and down from Wreck Beach a couple times, and expect a world of hurt on Sunday.
Tomorrow night I have a hot date with my nephew. Fun. The kid’s staying over for a night of movies, a late sleep-in, and hanging with the aunt on Sunday. It’s been about two or three years since he’s stayed over… but he used to light up like a million watts when he’d show up for sleepovers at auntie’s, and then the divorce/separation began with his folks, and now the only sleepovers he gets are at Dad’s. Add to that that he’s officially a pre-teen at 11, and I’m kind of dreading it and stoked at the same time — I’m so out of touch with hanging out with him that I’m nervous my cachet’s going to drop as he gets exposed to the inevitable truth: I’m just another grownup. But we’ll see.
I still have something on my side that his parents don’t have, though, and that’s punk rock. You never know. That could be just the ticket. :)
Have a great weekend, people.