I'm going to start this out by saying that the past two Christmases sucked. This is my second Christmas after my dad died so it was really just not good times. Cue me crying over a laundry basket full of towels on Christmas Eve. On top of that, my husband had to leave for a Chicago run on the 23rd so I was mostly alone. Don't get me wrong, I went to my aunt's house Christmas Day and my cousin even spent the night with me and stuff but I was just really lonely deep down, despite being surrounded by people. So I ate a lot.
Then on Monday I go into the gym for a reprogram and see that I had gained a pound and a half back over the course of a weekend. I was even sadder. I came home pissed off. And really discouraged. I had the thought--several times--of, "Why do I even bother? I'm going to be fat forever." I got really down on myself. And even though I stuck to my meal plan, I just really couldn't get my heart in it. I stared longingly at my husband's ginormous steak as I nibbled on my little deck-of-cards-sized portion. I could smell the buttery popcorn in the movie theater as I munched on my own all natural stuff that I sneaked in with in my purse. I really almost just gave up and gave in. But I didn't.
Yesterday, I weighed myself and I had lost the pound and a half that I gained plus an additional pound. I was really excited. Even more excited with I saw I had lost 5 inches at my waist (never mind the stagnation that is my thighs and arms...uuugggggh).
I don't even know the point of this, I just had to get it out.
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