Upon return from our Walt Disney World trip, the scale
really pissed me off was alarming. I would say my healthy eating has deteriorated to the point that I’m eating like a college frat house but with wine instead of beer. Yes, the whole house, not just one member.
Okay. That’s an exaggeration. But it is how I perceive it. I had no inner drive to eat well, despite my tight clothes and closet full of cute clothes that I can’t wear at all
without looking like the Michelin man. I wish I knew what comes over me at those times. Do I blame it on hormones? On money stresses from work being so slow? On wine and sugar tasting soooo goooood?
I don’t flip a switch when I make changes. It’s more of a slow ramping up, prepping myself mentally, until the day
of reckoning that I start. I’m still struggling to picture myself as successful at being a healthy, physically strong woman. I so often tell myself I can’t, despite the changes I’ve wrought and physical accomplishments I’ve achieved.
I’ve gone from this:
And this: although I’m pretty sure it’s my friend the cocktail shaker that’s contributed to me not fitting into that dress anymore. This was in April, and I was out without my husband. I want to wear this dress out WITH him dangit.
So tomorrow’s a new day. Hope’s back from vacation. I’ve invited her to take up permanent residence. We’ll see if she flees when I’m facing sugar withdrawals as I try to eat healthier or if she bails when I’ve got crazy muscle soreness (well, that would be now since I’m hobbling around since yesterday’s race). Hm, guess that means things are looking up!
(And, as soon as I can get more pictures, I’ll do a recap of yesterday’s crazy 10K at the Rose Bowl.)