Monday, March 04, 2013
The other day I changed my status to, "I'm going to fling my scale out the window just to see it move." I meant it. I've been working my backside hard enough for it to start coming off by now, but, alas, the weight is still there. I've bounced up and down between 276 and 284 since Valentines Day. I'm angry, and I mentally need to see progress for as hard as I'm trying. I feel like I need a secret decoder ring to unlock what will make my body lose weight. Geez.
I feel like my diet has been solid. My husband and I rarely eat out, and I'm fond of making just about everything from scratch so there is no preservatives or chemical sludge I'm eating in mass. I eat lots of different colored veggies, and I have a spinach based salad with lunch and dinner. My only indulgence is one cappuccino, lovingly imbibed during that glorious in-between space when my husband is still sleeping from the night before and my son is taking his mid-morning nap. If I have to give up that single cup, I'm might crack. I count it though; It's always in my food log.
So, I'm making a new plan of attack before the chorus of "give up voices" hits fever pitch. I'm going to smother myself in water today. I'm going to just make myself miserable with the clear stuff. I bumped up my workout's intensity, too. Surely I'll see real progress soon.
[Capt. Pep Talk saunters into the room.]
I'm so determined this time to lose 106 lbs. I can't get type II diabetes, and I'm on the cusp. I can't give up on being active and mobile; I've got a little boy that's going to want to play until HE passes out. I can't give up looking my best and feeling my best. I deserve to be at my happiest and healthiest, and my family deserves it, too. I can, I can, I can...