I went into a tailspin yesterday around 9 o’clock. This occurred after I recorded my dinner and found myself nearly 400 calories over budget for the day.
I will not type the vile reaction I had upon calculating my caloric intake — which, despite the expectation of grand failure earlier in the day, still upset me immeasurably — out of respect for my mom.
But you all are an imaginative bunch.
So, back to my tailspin: Three words: Girl Scout cookies.
Jesus Christ, they’re everywhere, like ants after heavy rainfall. And yesterday I was reminded that Ben and I each ordered two boxes months ago to support our co-workers’ kids.
Anyway, had I not adopted an “Eff the World” attitude last night, I could have easily resisted the Tagalongs, but because I had already failed, I indignantly mowed through a row of cookies, adding 300 more calories. And I hadn’t even exercised. Go ahead and do the math.
That was yesterday. Today I’m in a funk.
To be fair to myself, I have done remarkably well with my diet today — just 570 calories thus far, at 4:15 p.m. This success is likely related to aforementioned funk because a bad mood dulls my appetite. We’ll see how I do with dinner and exercise later on tonight.
But Week 1 has seriously driven home the principle of conscious eating. In other words, I could snack on a chocolate bar, but, unless I’m ignoring my diet, do I just want scraps for dinner?
In retrospect, I wouldn’t be surprised if I was consuming close to 2,500 calories for the past three years. Pair that with my ass perpetually on the couch and suddenly the 35 pounds of excess flab isn’t so mind-boggling.
Revelations are good. And, in this case, very bad too.