In my scale-climbing sadness, I ate a baby bag of peanut M&Ms today. I should have counted, but I think about 10 were inside. They were 80 calories. And delicious.
I also had a baby Snickers… which I remember Snickers being way better than this was. Have I evolved or was it too small to taste?
I asked my mom to not bring peanut butter cups into the house–ever–especially at Halloween when we are bound to have lots left over. I forgot to request no peanut M&Ms, since they are my second favorite. I say that because I haven’t had candy in forever and those are the two that come to the front of my mind when I am literally daydreaming of shoving food into my mouth and it all being calorie- and guilt-free.
What I did skip were Kit Kat and Three Musketeers. Both always seemed too “adult” to me as a child and I never grew attached to them melting on my tongue. There were also mini bags of candy corn, which I can’t remember if I even like. Weird. I promise I’m not going to try to find out.
I’ve been weighing a little more every day since Tuesday morning. Up, up, up slightly every day. It usually works the other way, I see a tiny change daily, and then, bam, my lowest weight appears on Friday–not coincidentally the day I make official.
I’ve exercised more than I ever normally do this week, upped from 35-40 minutes a day to 50 and yesterday 60.
It’s making me sad, like I want to eat french fries.
I was reading the chapter on compulsive exercising from Breaking Free… this morning, waiting to be called in for my appointment to have my teeth cleaned, and realizing that I probably qualify when I am really in a weight-loss groove. Not verbatim, but a sign is eating strictly based on the amount of time exercised, which I, frankly, only do. I am a big, big calorie counter, and know my net intake for every single day. Every.
I wish weight-loss was more of a science. And maybe tomorrow will be different.
Stay tuned for a report on true loss of weight (or sanity.)
Would you believe… is it even possible… that I feel like I was in better shape 50 pounds ago than I am right now?
I am noticing the difference between, say, moving my legs and moving my body. I move parts of my body a lot these days, and it does the job, I burn calories, and the weight comes off… but I’m not exercising my heart.
This morning, in a game of show-off between my brother and me, I realized I could only hang with moving for about three minutes before I was sucking air and had to quit.
I’ve lost 110lbs! Three minutes!!
I do worry sometimes that I may never be fit (or appear to be in shape, in the least, is generally my fear). I don’t feel at all smaller in some of the areas of my body. I see nothing but fat when I look at my arms. It feels disgusting. I hate my calves. I bought a knee-length skirt eight pounds ago, and I’ll probably never wear it. It makes me feel worse to think of the way I might look in it. I guess I like to torture myself.
This is the part of weight loss that I was never told about. In order to see that I had to change, I had to admit there was something wrong with me in the first place. There was a lot wrong with me, and I let it all continue for way too long and add too many pounds. Now I’m stretched, and flabby, and out of shape… and gross.
It doesn’t matter how far I’ve come, some days all I can see, all I can focus on are the ways, over time, I have ruined my body. I hate myself for that.
The ice cream tastes like cold pumpkin pie filling, and I consider pumpkin pie among my favorite things in the entire world. But since the best part of pie is the crust, it doesn’t do it for me the way the real stuff does.
The Weight Watchers cakes have gross chemicals in them, and are tiny! I successfully counted Weight Watchers points once in my life, and I might have saved three or four at the end of my day for half a box of these back then. (I’m not kidding.) I’d sort of rather use those calories on a banana now. Who am I??
I found Glenny’s brownies at Walgreen’s near the check-out, among all of the other impulse buys. They don’t taste like the brownies of my dreams and are way smaller than the package makes them seem, BUT! they aren’t made of a lot of gross, heart-diseasing things, and have fiber in them. Fiber in a brownie means it is totally health food. I love brownies. Just ask my boyfriend about the time I inhaled one like a chocolate-loving David Copperfield. Poof.
I factored in and worked off nearly all of this, so I should still lose weight by the end of this week. If I don’t, at least I documented my food irresponsibility. I’m an anti-social social eater.
My brother brought Dunkin’ Donuts all the way from his home in Nevada this morning. We don’t have Dunkin’ Donuts in California, and the rumor was they’re the best donuts ever.
It was good. It was a donut so, duh, it was good. But I don’t know about the best.
I think that was the first donut I’ve had since I began my diet in 2006. I’m feeling like I would remember eating a donut (cheating) since then since donuts are totally great.
Anyway, I weighed 211.2 this morning. Since I’ve officially lost over 110 pounds, I’m not stretching to give myself more credit. But between you and me, I think I was even retaining a little water since I drank a quart-sized bottle of it last night and didn’t wake up fifteen times while sleeping.
At (or under) 217 this morning. I’ve exercised four of the last five days–some more than others. I have to say, I like that when I eat extra things, I can sort of think, “Well, I’m not supposed to have this, but at least I’m still three-hundred calories in the red instead of four…”
But I don’t really eat extra things on the days I work out. Huh. Funny.
I have a broken bracket on my lower teeth. I think I broke it eating thin-crust freezer pizza (with a knife and fork, even) or maybe apple pieces earlier in the afternoon, or maybe really even, brushing with my spin-y Oral-B Vitality. My story will be the last one as I get it fixed tomorrow, of course.
I like my braces but this week they’ve been such a source of annoyance for me. I even had a dream last night that all of my top front teeth fell out but stayed together, bound by the wire, coming out in one piece. I have teeth dreams a lot, more commonly years ago, but they FREAK ME OUT.
I still weigh 219, or maybe more, I have no idea. I had pizza, yeah, and too many reduced fat Pringles, and like 15 Ritz crackers straight from the sleeve at 4am, awake and needing to take an ibuprofen. And that all sucks. And I suck for allowing it to and making it happen.
My dinner tonight was green–edamame and a granny smith apple. So at least I’m seeing those would-be signs from my last post in my head.
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