At Least My Cranky Pants Fit

As much as I wanted to be all Pollyanna about my Weigh-In today, it’s not working very well. I’m disappointed. I’m getting over it, though (I say to myself, as I sniffle a little). I knew it was coming, I even gave myself a little pep talk in the car on the way over, “You’re going to gain today. Just deal with it now. Don’t be shocked. You’re going to gain. It happens. You’ll lose it next week when you’re not estrogen incarnate. It’s all good.”

Well, eff Pollyanna and the sunshine she blew in on. I gained 1.6 lbs. this week. ONE POINT SIX. Great, so I lost 4, then I lost 1.2 and now I’ve gained more than I lost last week. I know why. I can look right at my food log and see why. Coldstone… cruel, calorie-ridden, siren-temptress Coldstone. And diet soda in lieu of water and not getting all of my workouts in.

I want to not be mad at myself. I keep thinking, "You only have FIVE weeks to hit your mini-goal. Why are you sabotaging yourself?" I can lay out a million excuses… stress, pms, outside influence, blah blah blah blah blah blah. It’s the same ol’ song and dance every time I screw up. I riddle myself with excuses, then I beat myself up for not only “failing”, but for then making excuses for it.

I can’t deny it; I am mad at myself a little. I had a good boo-hoo over it when I got home and promptly drowned my sorrows in an Egg McMuffin. (7 Points and duly noted.) Yet fortunately, I’m not one to wallow, so as I’m blogging this, I’m attempting to let it go and move forward. I’ve got five weeks to hit my mini goal. This is no time to be a pussy.

What’s that saying? "Don’t get mad, get even." In this case, it’s with myself. I’m not bringing my A-game. I talk all great, like I’ve got it all figured out. The things is, I’m just winging it like everyone else. But I also know when I’m not doing my very best. The first week, I was. The second week, I almost did… last week, well, I consider myself lucky I was still counting Points .

I’m going to make this happen.