Yo. I don’t normally start off any posts with a yo. Today though, it is. Why? I feel like it.
Last week I fell off the wagon. I got sick and I was coughing all the time and I barely ate anything but, oh.. wait, tea and cookies are a food group, right? Maybe if you’re 70. Not 31.
When I get sick, I need comfort. I need sugar, I need tea, I need anything that’s going to make me ‘feel better’. Right, you see where this is going. I didn’t workout, I couldn’t breathe, I didn’t eat clean like I’m supposed to, but I ate a lot of cookies! and soup! and muffins! Because they make me feel better! And life is all about feeling good, right?
Friday night I drank a whole bottle of vodka with a friend. Oh, no biggie, we’ll put grapefruit juice, cranberry juice and triple sec in it, it will make me feel better. No, in fact, it made me feel AWESOME, and then the next day it made me want to punch myself in the face.
Why I continue to think that these are great ideas are beyond me. You think by now I would have learned th at it’
s not a good choice to make.
I had a good weekend filled with girlfriends and I came home to a bunch of flowers from Darcy and his kids. Seriously, it makes my complaining about everyone go away. I love that I am loved, it feels damn good.
Today I’m back at it. Cooking up protein pancakes, yams, tons of veggies, and I finally got myself a little grill so I can stop baking my chicken. Baked chicken is like the equivalent of a boiled piece of fish to me, and damn I was tired of it.
I can fall of the wagon, I can get back up and I can be honest about it. Damnit, I’m fat. I feel fat, I look fat, I don’t want to be fat anymore. Overweight, fat, whatever, that’s what I am and I’m doing something about it.