Before my recent vacation, I gave myself permission to eat anything I wanted while I was away. I wanted to eat buffalo, elk, potatoes, pasta, beer. And, of course, I knew I'd be faced with road trip food, so I also wanted corn nuts. But I also packed healthy snacks, and decided I would still track all those Weight Watchers points. Not bad, right?
I did not eat the healthy snacks.
I did not track the Weight Watchers points. I went off book. Wild.
I ate the corn nuts on the road trip, because what's a midwestern road trip without them? But then Skittles. And M&Ms. Cheetos.
I ate the buffalo burgers, and big plates of fries. BIG. Fried pickles, pancakes, chocolate truffles.
I drank lots of good local beer. Too much, considering I'm not supposed to drink any alcohol.
And a fucking cronut.
Alright. I was a little anxious throughout the trip. I had been thrown a few curve balls, and I had forgotten some of my bipolar meds. So, I cut myself a break.
After a day back at home, I planned out my weekly healthy menu, and shopped for it. I went to the farmers market for fresh produce. I was actually excited to get back on track.
I had lost 37 pounds in 9 months, achieving my goal, so I wasn't going to let a little vacation cronut and Crows Peak screw it all up. I just bought size 6 pants, for godssakes! And I love them!
But during the past few days after doing all my welcome-home-healthy-shopping, I have still been eating like a crazed she wolf. Craving cheese and cookies and all the carbs instead of that kale. Is it the change of season? Is it stress of some kind? Do I need a new goal to work toward?
Today was the topper. A colleague brought a dozen donuts to work. I don't even work with a dozen people, so there were plenty to go around. Normally able to resist the glaze, I instead said "fuck it" and grabbed a donut this morning. It was really good. I'd forgive myself for that. However, this afternoon, instead of taking a walk outside with an apple, I scarfed down the second donut.
What the fuuuuuuuck.
I counted the Weight Watchers points. 12.
I can feel my mid-section growing. I can feel my contracted hips start to expand again. I feel sick and I'm disappointed in myself and I'm beating myself up. I don't even want to know what's going on in my liver. Self-flagellation gets you nowhere with weight loss, though.
Perhaps that was the final straw. I'm trying to convince myself that I just have pick myself up and start fresh.
Maybe wait a few days before wearing those new little pants again.