Morning Weight 180.2
Hello 180’s, old buddy, old pal. I knew I’d see you again. Blah!
Yep, I’m back in the 180’s. It stinks. How did I reach day 20 already? I thought by day 20 I’d be nearly ready for that string bikini I’ve been eyeing. Okay, not really, but still, I sure hoped to be “down” more than five pounds. Alas, such is my fate—or is it?
I’m going to watch The Biggest Loser tonight. Which means I will inevitably realign my goals, will swear to myself that tomorrow I will get truly serious. And in all likelihood, I just might. Watch me. Stick around for another week. I’m going to go out of this 30-day diary with a bang even if I have to tape my mouth shut to do it!
Seriously, I just need to move. Everything else falls into place if you move. It’s funny how that happens, huh?
Tonight I’m making sweet-n-sour meatballs with white rice. I love those little prepared meatballs, but boy do they pack some fat. So I’m going to resist gobbling up an army full and try to eat only a few. Why am I not eating chicken or fish or a nice, green salad, you ask? Beats me. My willpower is somewhat shot as I flubber through my workweek here, seemingly at a writing standstill. It stresses me out. It makes me jittery. It makes me—seek comfort food.
Ahhh, comfort food. The angel of the stomach, the devil of the scale. Why is it that the things that taste the best are the worse for you? Perhaps it’s just my eating habits. Maybe if I’d started out life with all fruits and veggies, had preferred celery to cheese and apples to chocolate, maybe then it would be easier.
Something to think about—just for a minute though. Gotta go watch The Biggest Loser and get inspired…again.
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