I forget how quickly the weight always comes off when I begin. I was terrified to step on the scale this morning. Last night, I made orange chicken (from Trader Joe’s, so I’m using the word “make” loosely). The plan was to saute some chicken breast for myself and use some of the sauce with it, but the calorie count on the package was of course, not broken down. Understandable.
After checking my tracker, I had room for the dish as prepared for my family, so I went for it. Of course, then I was done for the day. No TV snack for me. (sad face)
I laid there in bed and beat myself up, thinking about yesterday’s post and how stupid I was going to feel when I stepped on the scale this morning and was back up to 250. The anxiety, people! Do I blog about it? Do I just not step on the scale tomorrow, knowing that the sodium in my meal was probably the culprit? Or do I face my demons, accept the consequences of my decisions, put on my literal and figurative big girl panties?
Well, it’s pretty obvious what I did. And I’m glad. Glad I checked my tracker pre-dinner to see where I was at. Glad I wasn’t a chicken. Glad I didn’t assume I had blown it and used that as license to binge.
WHY???? Why is it that when I make a misstep, I decide to compound it by a binge? I wish I knew. Anyway…
It’s a workout day. Gonna try to make 30 minutes on treadmill today. That means there’s room for Cake (the band) and AC/DC on my playlist. New rule: When I add 5 minutes on to my elliptical time, I get to buy a song off of iTunes.
I like that rule.