have that damn wagon in my sights.
I have managed to log every single last bite of food that's gone into my mouth for five days straight. It's amazing how fast my calorie consumption drops when I force myself to be aware of it. It is definitely a lot easier to say, "NO!" to a 9 p.m. milkshake run to Sonic when I know that I've already eaten 200 more calories that day than I'd planned.
Granted, there've been a couple days where I've eaten such a gluttonous lunch that, come dinner-time, I was in a pickle. The thing is, under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have even realized where I stood and would have gone on to eat an enormous dinner too. By keeping track, I'm able to force myself to stop and think and make a decision that perhaps it's better to have a big glass of water and a cup of veggie soup or something for dinner instead of half a pizza.
I'm also finally swimming again. There are few better appetite suppresants than seeing my thighs, in all their brilliantly white cottage cheesy glory poking out the bottom of my TIGHT size 16 bathing suit.
I'm down 2.6 pounds so far for the week...with a day and a half to go. If I can keep on this path and maybe catch that wagon, I just might start giving my ass a run for the money again.