Hello newly gained pound…meet the rest of my body. I’d like to say you’re very welcome but at the risk of being rude, don’t unpack your bags because actually you’re not welcome here, in fact you can just fuck right off. I mean where did you even come from..?
Something tells me I need to do an autopsy on the week because this can’t happen, right? For the first time in six months I am fatter today than I was this time last week. I’m gutted…but having had a quick flick through the week maybe it’s a lesson learned. And to be fair I have to own it. I got complacent.
Last weekend I headed south for a visit with my best buddy, was treated to a lovely Sunday lunch out, and had a handful or two of snacks in the evening which I pointed and counted. When I say pointed and counted I mean sort of guessed. Snacks I hadn’t tried before, with nutritional info on the bag which I didn’t even look at so to my shame I can’t even try and blag an educated guess. Just a plain old common-or-garden guess.
On Monday I had no breakfast, but where I’d normally eat fruit or something mid-morning in the office, I just had a couple of latte coffees during the day whilst we were working and then dinner in my hotel. Sensible choice, chicken caesar salad and I asked for the dressing on the side, which came in a jug…going well so far. Quite a large jug if I’m honest and not only did I pour it all on, I seem to remember scraping out what was left with a piece of lettuce to make sure I didn’t miss any. I don’t imagine the duck pancakes appetiser helped my daily points total either, which for the second day running was a wild guess.
Tuesday, I tucked into a generous breakfast in my hotel, more confidently pointed since it was familiar food. But definitely generous, on the basis that we would be working through lunchtime. I ate a late afternoon snack, a wrap bought from the deli next door…only guessable in terms of points. Then three large glasses of red at the bloggy folk social, oh and let’s not forget two cheese balls.
The rest of the week wasn’t bad in terms of food choices, with the exception of the whole sleeve of Jaffa Cakes which I’ve already ‘fessed up about. Is this a good time to mention that I’ve not been near my hurt machine in over a week..? And yesterday was the first time I’ve been out walking for any real distance with Charlie dog.
It’s been a busy week but that doesn’t make it any different to most of my weeks so I’m not even going to try that excuse. Fact is, I have no excuse, and the days of trying to cobble one together are long gone. I got complacent, cocky, whatever you want to call it, and the bitch in the bathroom has given me a good kicking because of it. I got what I deserved based on the week I put in – sometimes you look at the number on the scale and life feels unfair because you tried so hard, right? Not this week. This week, much as it galls me, the bitch had a point.
I’ve talked before, a lot, about worrying that if I stepped out of the sweet spot I’d be terrified I wouldn’t get back in. That if I wasn’t perfect all the time I’d get jettisoned out into the bad lands of cheese balls and chocolate to fend for myself. But that’s not where I’m at, in fact nowhere near. I didn’t fall off the wagon, I just didn’t pay enough attention that’s all and the short sharp shock which this newly acquired pound of lard has served up today was my come to Jesus moment.
Bitch, I see your pound and raise you…rematch next Sunday and come prepared to eat dirt 🙂
