i've been trying to post all week. i felt it coming. i knew i needed support, reassurance, camaraderie... something. yesterday, it hit. after an appointment with my shrink, i decided i *deserved* a light frap. (140c or something?) so i got one. and a petite vanilla scone. and my lunch wasn't satisfying, so i grabbed a caprese sandwich.
i felt shitty about it and decided to eat light and fresh for dinner. instead i at a LARGE portion of pasta with butter and cheese and two slices of buttered toast. then, when my husband wanted pizza at 10pm, i okayed it. and ate a slice. with fries.
i promised myself i'd do better today. i had a slice of pizza for breakfast.
i've packed fruit for my day-- a peach, a jazz apple and some grapes. i'm bloated as hell, so water, water, water.
the absolute kicker is that i was 173.2 yesterday morning. awesome, right? NOT FOR LOOOOOOONG!
i'm taking up running. i HAVE to. i have an inhaler. it's not even remotely cold anymore and, dude, i can spend 30 minutes at the track during "chance of showers" weather, right? if there's thunder, i'll just duck under the concession/restroom area. i have a six-week program (from women's health mag) and i'm going to start signing up for every race i come across from august onward.
(a good idea would be to do this WHILE taking classes, studying for the gre's, looking for volunteer opportunities/volunteering, re-doing our apartment and trying to concurrently read a 25-book series & all the plays i own. and take up knitting and painting. HELLO, OVER EXTENSION! the good news is my office closes at 3 on fridays all summer, so i'm dedicating that time to the gre's-- which i'll be taking in december.)
busy. busy like a little bee trying to make my life do what i want it to do. and tired of being fat.