work at all. I made the mistake of using everyone else's arbitrary "new life" start point as my own. I made the stupid "resolutions" at the end of the calendar year instead of saving them for my birthday like I've pretty much always done.
Unfortunately for my ego (and the size of my ass)...I set myself up for an epic failure from the get-go. Me trying to put my stalled weight loss on a RESTART while my in-laws are still visiting is like trying to teach my dogs to wipe their bottoms with toilet paper instead of licking them clean. It doesn't work. I've tried the former and discussed the latter at length with the dogs. The dogs just continue to look at me in glee or dismay depending on their doggy moods.
By 1:00 in the afternoon on New Year's Day, we HAD to go out to eat because we were running errands and Grandpa's blood sugar was low. (If watching someone give themselves insulin shots doesn't put the fear of God into you about your weight, NOTHING will.) I had no choice but to go with them to lunch. Well, I guess I could have tucked and rolled out of the moving vehicle when the decision was made, but that would have probably been an overreaction. I guess I could have ordered a glass of water and stealthily eaten the protein bar I had packed in my purse, but with all the outside influences at play, I caved. It could have been worse. I could have ordered the steak sandwich and fries that my ass wanted, but I didn't. I ordered a grilled chicken (I think they grilled it in a vat of oil??) salad with no croutons and no cheese and ranch salad dressing on the side. I used less than a tablespoon of dressing. I left feeling somewhat victorious for "tweaking" my resolutions to fit the circumstances.
Then we had to go to dinner. And then breakfast the next day...and so on. This festival of food consumption culminated last night at Olive Garden where, by this point, I felt like such a total failure for not sticking to my resolution to eat at home that I ate everything in sight...including, but not limited to a breadstick, three bowls of salad (with dressing and croutons)...and an order of chicken picatta with a side of cheese ravioli in a ridiculously creamy sauce. I was so full I nearly puked in the car on the way home and I've been up since about 4 a.m. with a horrific headache. The kicker is: I don't even really LIKE Olive Garden.
What's nice now, though, is the idea of eating out again right now repulses me. All I want to do is take my Synthroid with a giant glass of water on a nice empty stomach and go back to bed for about an hour. I'll make myself an egg white omlete when I wake up again...maybe have one of those DELICIOUS honey crisp apples too. Have you tried those? Soooooo yummy. Then, I'll hit the gym, help the inlaws load of the car because they're heading out today, and, perhaps, continue my "let's look at new sofas" shopping expidition with my hubby - or not - the last thing I really need is a MORE comfortable place to sit and turn into a pile of gelatinous goo.
Right now, I feel like a living example of the road to hell being paved with good intentions. At least it's an interesting journey.
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