Yesterday was a bad day. On the way home from my mother’s on Tuesday, Liv threw up in the car. Not once, but 3 times. She continued to do so through the evening and spent a restless night in our bed. Though she was better in the morning, she was still sporting a bit of a fever so I kept her from daycare, and I worked from home.
I was exhausted. Drained. I didn’t even give any thought to breakfast until after the big kids were on the bus and FIL asked if I wanted anything from Tim Hortons. I did, of course. My standard large black coffee. I should have stopped there, and made some oatmeal, but I asked him to get me a pumpkin muffin. You know, the one with glazed caramelized pumpkin seeds and the butter cream filling. I regretted it as soon as he pulled out of the driveway.
I took it as a sign though when he came back and they were all out. Instead he brought me a glazed pumpkin donut, which I took one bite of and threw in the trash. I was good. It was near 10 at that point, and I had a call to be on, so I drank my coffee and didn’t eat. And then I began dreaming of toaster waffles, plugging them in to my calorie app in different forms, essentially deciding that I wasn’t NOT having waffles and screw you life change. So, I finished my call, and I cooked 4 fricking waffles. I went light on the butter and syrup, but there you have it. 763 calories. I immediately felt bad in mind and in body. That guilt that I’ve been working hard to eliminate by making good choices, the heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach from eating something that was so dense and sweet.
It was near 11 by the time I ate those though, and save for a few goldfish crackers when I was doling them out to Liv, I didn’t eat until dinner time. We had a decent meal, beef tips and rice. I was hungry after dinner, so I ate one of the banana muffins I had baked while waiting for the big kids to get home, had some water and I went to bed.
Here is the difference in this occurrence to all of those in the past: I got up this morning and started over. Yesterday was a blip. I can start again. I don’t like the heavy feeling in my stomach. I don’t like feeling out of control, as tasty as that option is. I like being tied to my calorie counter and making choices that fit.
In the last 2 weeks I’ve seen a change in my appearance. My skin is better, less oily and has a glow. My pants fit a little bit better. The number on the scale is 6 lbs lower. I feel good about myself. I’ve worn heels to work, worn perfume and jewelry. All of the things I was tying myself to in my weekly wills were happening naturally just because I felt good about myself.
So I know this time is different. I can feel it. I’ve tasted success and have felt better about myself than I have in years. I’m sure there will be more blips, but I am committed to staying on the path. In only 2 or so weeks, I’ve come too far to look back now.