i am a statistic . . .

Fatcat

i know, i know. crickets have been chirping over here lately on the diet updates front. i’ve been too ashamed to write myself through what’s happened over the past few weeks.

after a totally solid first 3 weeks of hitting my goals more or less, feeling great and losing 5 pounds, i completely fell off the wagon. just like 89% of the other schmoes who made a new year’s resolution (no offense to you guys, whatsoever.), i gave up the fight when it had only just begun.

a traveling husband and 2 weeks+ of playing single mommy drove me to the bottom of a bottle of Zinfandel too many nights in a row, at which point pub cheese and a sleeve of Ritz crackers seemed like a perfectly legit dinner option. my gym attendance waned with a busy work schedule. snowmageddon and the resulting snow day, obviously meant day drinking and random noshing around the neighborhood. then happy-hour-birthday-party-jelly-bean-boom. and honestly, i kind of think part of me just wanted to see how far i could push it before i really got into trouble. it all culminated last night with the big game (go Seahawks!) and diving head first into a spread of wings and nachos, the magnitude of which had been unseen in my home since last year’s playoffs (go Falcons!). i mean, at that point, why fight it?

so there they are. those are my excuses. now, what am i gonna do about them?

well, for starters, i have to remember that i am not defined by my mistakes—not in life and not in my flight from fatness. not as long as i learn from them. here, i have learned that i will use pretty much any excuse to misbehave and need to pretend i have at least a modicum of self control so that maybe one day, the angel on my shoulder will win more battles than the devil on the other one. fake it ’til you make it, baby. 

next, i have to get my crap back together. to that end, i started tracking on MFP again today, drinking a bunch of vegetable juice, lots of protein and no starches. work and a crazy morning got in the way of the gym again, but i’m making plans for tomorrow. and as i write, i’ve turned down wine in favor of water and closed out my tracker a mere 65 calories over goal. i swear, i have already peed out a pound of bloat and am totally cool just to ease back into this. slow and steady wins the race.

finally, i have to resume laser focus. there is book club Thursday and date night Friday. i have to plan when i will fit in workouts and what i will eat so i don’t get thrown off track the minute i’m presented with a beautiful bowl of cheese straws or a delicious craft cocktail. to help me along, instead of focusing on the endgame of a bikini at the pool, which seems like an eternity away at this point, i’m going to think about how good i felt that first couple of weeks—how i could already feel clothes loosening a bit around the waist, and more importantly, how proud i was of myself for sticking to my commitment and how awesome that felt. mind over matter.

anybody else fall off the wagon, too? climb on back up here with me — we got this!

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