So my day to weigh in is Friday, which I did and I lost 1 pound. One measly little pound. I was depressed. I worked out 3 days that week for a little over an hour each time. I ate less then I have eaten in a long time. Probably averaging 1500 calories a day, even though I wanted to stay around 1200. I don't know, I really just felt smaller, I felt like I lost more than a pound.
Then I got depressed and I made The Barefoot Contessa's Salted Caramel Brownies, they were so good. I mean really good, they may be my new go to dessert when I am have company. Of course, then I felt guilty for eating crap. It was weird, my stomach hurt and I felt bloated after eating some crap food this weekend. I am trying to remember and take mental notes on how I feel and how my body feels when I make healthy food choices and when I make not so healthy ones.
So here I am Monday morning, not giving up, ready to embrace the week ahead and trying to decide how to get the scale to move in my favor. I spent some time researching weight loss surgery this weekend. I don't think it is for me yet, but I am getting more desperate. Like weight loss patients, I am going to try replacing some meals this week with a protein shake. Hopefully that will help me keep better track of my calories.
A part of me feels like my life is on hold until I can become the person I want to be. As though losing the weight will give me the strength to do the things I am currently afraid to do. I know in my mind this is ridiculous but I can't help feel that way. I feel like I am meant to do great things but they can't be done until I lose weight, like somehow being overweight is making me a failure.
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