It has been 1 whole week since I finally stood on the scale. And, of course, every day this week my weight as fluctuated up and down. So when I stood in front of that heartless piece of equipment this morning, I glared at it and sent mental signals to it, letting it know that it better not mess me with me.
I had extremely stressful week. Despite the challenges I stayed virtually 100% on plan. It wasn't easy, I'll be honest. Part of it I'm realizing is just complete habit - like the smoker grabbing a pack of smokes and lighting up first thing in the morning, I had gotten in the very bad habit of coming home and plowing through a bunch of food before I even changed out of my work clothes.
Which, if it was a snack of a handful of baby carrots wouldn't be so bad - but scooping out spoonful after spoonful of peanut butter and inhaling it doesn't exactly benefit a person in the weightloss battle.
But some of it is learning that the reality again of just learning to live with hunger again. To realize that I can feel hungry and that's not something that needs IMMEDIATE attention.
But hunger is not, for me anyway, a pleasant feeling. So yesterday afternoon, after eating a perfectly reasonable lunch but still feeling hungry, I had myself half convinced that it was perfectly acceptable to go in the break room, where some powdered donuts sat and to eat "only half" of a donut and that somehow would still be keeping to my promise to myself of sticking to plan.
When I managed to get out the door without having eaten any part of a donut, I arrived home and Fat Jen calmly explained to me that as a reward for having so much self contol, I was entitled to some peanut butter.
Back to this morning - standing in front of the scale - having spent 4 whole days sans peanut butter and having shunned the donuts, I demanded to be rewarded.
1 pound down.
At the exact time, I felt some satisfaction and some fury. Yes, a pound down is a pound down. But the other part of me screamed "Are you fucking kidding me? 1 measley ass pound??"