To eat or not to eat, that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of shrinking clothing, or take arms against a sea of calories and by opposing lose them. To exercise, to slack no more per chance to diet.
Some time back in June I made a bet with my hubby about weight loss. We set goals, developed a plan, and it lasted (for me) about a week. I got so frustrated at not seeing any progress. Tim, on the other hand, started work at a particular local DIY super store moving lumber and has shown definite progress.
It almost makes me sick.
Not sick enough, mind you, to stop eating. With only 3 weeks left, I've found that most of my entries into the little book in my bedside table have been of discouragement or confusion. Why does the body fat percentage on our nifty scale fluctuate so wildly from day to day? Why don't the supplements I took work? Why do I still gain if I cut the amount of food I eat in half and make up the difference with water? Why are healthier choices and fewer calories not translating to a smaller sized me? Why can't I actually use the treadmill in the living room?
I've fasted, I've dieted, I've excluded, I've exercised, I've counted, I've prayed, and nothing seems to be working. Grrrr! I've got jeans in my closet from 10 years ago I would LOVE to wear (my butt looked really good in them and they're not out-dated, I promise). I've got a couple cute dresses that are 6 sizes too small! When did this happen?!?!?
Tim will tell you that as a *larger* woman, *other* things are also larger, and that translates to happiness for him, but not for me. Especially when the *other* things make my shirts too short or tight. I have a T-shirt with a 50 cal on it that now looks actual size. I miss the days when I could randomly pick something from my closet and knew it would fit.
It looks like I have a lot of work to do.
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