I've been doing really great on my weight loss plan. I've lost 11 pounds. I'm pretty happy about this. Unfortunately, I've sucked it majorly this week and I'm pretty sure the scale will not be my friend on Thursday. I overindulged at Super Bowl and The Boy and I had a WONDERFUL foodie weekend. I'm usually okay with all that, but I haven't exercised at all this week. Which is lame since I have a Nordic Track in my office! I'm just blah about it right now. I'm going to try really hard to wake up tomorrow and hit the ground running so I can hopefully shed a pound or so by my weigh in. But I'll honestly be happy with anything but a gain!
When I think back to before I was "heavy," I am amazed that I ever allowed myself to get this way. It's such a slow and incremental process; it's practically glacial. A pound here or there and ten years later I'm a fatty. (I know that I am over-exagerating, but still ...) And it's really not fair that it takes twice as much work to lose a pound as it does to gain one. How does that even make sense?!?!?!
Oh well. In the immortal words of my hero: "Tomorrow is another day."