Out where the busses don't run.
So yeah, I've lost it a bit and Peggy is desperately trying to rein me back in.
For instance, yes, it's good to shave calories within reason, but writing unsmiley faces in my food journal because I went over 1200 is bonkers. I've come this far MOSTLY staying around 1500 per day and aiming for 1200-1400, but the self flagellation for 1500 plus is not constructive.
Nor is using extra bike miles to try and burn off excess calories, especially if I do it by cruising around downtown traffic after work, which is a good way to get killed.
I don't know HOW to stop beating myself up over gaining 3/4 of a pound and therefore NOT having a quesadilla that I promised myself if I got to 135, but getting so many cravings I ended up night eating for the first time in ages and hit 1700, which is probably as bad as the quesadilla would have been is beyond ED behavior and straight into yes, you've got one and just because you don't look St. Karen doesn't mean you don't.
Constructive steps I can take, especially since I have a week of PTO away from the hell hole:
Luna Bars and Clif Bars are not really "protein" in any meaningful sense of the word. They are basically candy with extra fiber and none of them are worth the calorie count. STOP IT.
Detox from diet soda and gum. My innards and tongue will thank me.
Substitute Jicama for carrots. Slightly fewer calories and lot lighter in the gut, especially the night before a weigh-in. (That was just fucking self-destructive. No way those bastards were going to clear the system in time, no matter how big a poop I got out.)
Yoga, yoga, yoga!
Other plans for the week include my eye exam because all my glasses need a serious update, fasting blood panel to see if got the lipids down and the D up, physical exam so I can wow my doctor, and a full body massage on Friday.
I am probably going to skip the pancakes THIS Sunday when I have my brunch with hubby, but I have promised him I'm going to sit down at a restaurant, in this case Fog City Diner, on Sunday night, March 30, and help him celebrate his birthday, as if I were a normal person and not batshit crazy.
For those who are following the work saga---phone interview went ok, but the subtext I got was, "We really like you, but this isn't your time. Try again next year." Too bad I will (hopefully) be long gone by then.
For instance, yes, it's good to shave calories within reason, but writing unsmiley faces in my food journal because I went over 1200 is bonkers. I've come this far MOSTLY staying around 1500 per day and aiming for 1200-1400, but the self flagellation for 1500 plus is not constructive.
Nor is using extra bike miles to try and burn off excess calories, especially if I do it by cruising around downtown traffic after work, which is a good way to get killed.
I don't know HOW to stop beating myself up over gaining 3/4 of a pound and therefore NOT having a quesadilla that I promised myself if I got to 135, but getting so many cravings I ended up night eating for the first time in ages and hit 1700, which is probably as bad as the quesadilla would have been is beyond ED behavior and straight into yes, you've got one and just because you don't look St. Karen doesn't mean you don't.
Constructive steps I can take, especially since I have a week of PTO away from the hell hole:
Luna Bars and Clif Bars are not really "protein" in any meaningful sense of the word. They are basically candy with extra fiber and none of them are worth the calorie count. STOP IT.
Detox from diet soda and gum. My innards and tongue will thank me.
Substitute Jicama for carrots. Slightly fewer calories and lot lighter in the gut, especially the night before a weigh-in. (That was just fucking self-destructive. No way those bastards were going to clear the system in time, no matter how big a poop I got out.)
Yoga, yoga, yoga!
Other plans for the week include my eye exam because all my glasses need a serious update, fasting blood panel to see if got the lipids down and the D up, physical exam so I can wow my doctor, and a full body massage on Friday.
I am probably going to skip the pancakes THIS Sunday when I have my brunch with hubby, but I have promised him I'm going to sit down at a restaurant, in this case Fog City Diner, on Sunday night, March 30, and help him celebrate his birthday, as if I were a normal person and not batshit crazy.
For those who are following the work saga---phone interview went ok, but the subtext I got was, "We really like you, but this isn't your time. Try again next year." Too bad I will (hopefully) be long gone by then.