Another long, challenging day in the salt mines. Got home about 7pm, stopped on the way at the grocery store to buy a roasted chicken. Poor scrawny thing. Not sure how long it had been in the warmer - but it looks like I will barely get 2 meals out of it. The dog gets the skin as a bedtime treat.
It is interesting how my tastebuds have adjusted over the last few months. I still have my daily treats - one choc chip cookie (50 calories) and one biscotti (140 calories), but I really have no desire to binge on baked goods or chocolate. (Not yet, says the little voice, not yet.) I have been really paying attention to the total fat %age in my diet, and trying to keep it down to 30% or less. Most days I am close (10% deviation is allowed by my nutrition software before I get a big red X on the food log). Cheese is one of my favourite foods, and even when I indulge in that I weigh it to make sure it is less than 2 oz. Which is a surprisingly large amount, and enough to satisfy me.
So why, oh why, by the good st sizita, is the scale not budging? I am becoming obsessed with it - to the point I fear I have become like one ballet student I read about, who said that when she was at the National Ballet School she was so concerned about her weight that she wore footprints into her scale. And she was probably one-third of the person I am! Imagine!
Like I don’t have other things to worry about! My job! My son who tells me he has run out of money 6 weeks before his term ends and now needs a rather significant infusion of cash! My family’s various health problems, etc. My man’s very complicated life and how it is starting to infiltrate my life! These are all valid and important things I could easily obsess over but no, all my energy is going into trying to change the blinking number in the window of that stupid white scale with my psychic powers every morning (and evening).
Arrgh.
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.