I officially need to rethink my weekends. They are slowing me up considerably. I regularly gain at least one pound over the weekend, usually more, and I need to take steps to avoid this in the future.
This morning, I weighed in at 211. I had been at 210.5 before last weekend hit. Gained one over the weekend, lost one-half during the week. This is unacceptable.
I also need to bump up my exercise. I did Dance Dance Revolution two days this week, for 20 minutes each day. This was a good start, but I need to make myself lift weights after the 20 minutes of DDR cardio.
There’s a very narrow time period in the evening in which I feel “motivated” to exercise. I come home from work, talk to Aaron before he leaves, say goodbye to him, change out of my work clothes and into comfy clothes, feed the cat, and contemplate my dinner. If dinner will require 40 minutes in the oven, like chicken, I’ll get that started and then start my exercise routine. If it won’t take very long to make, like fish, I’ll get right into my exercise and cook it afterward. If, however, I mistime my meals and end up being hungry when I get home, and find something quick to eat instead (like last night’s yummy tortilla pizza with a wheat tortilla and low-carb pizza sauce and mushrooms and just a little cheese), then it’s equal odds whether I’ll manage to do any exercise afterward.
As for food, I’ve rediscovered lowfat cottage cheese. Mmm. I’ve also been laying off the low-carb pasta, for the most part, although I have my occasional moments of weakness when I get home from work. Apart from that, things are pretty much the same. Oatmeal or Cranapple Crunch for breakfast, an apple or cottage cheese with fruit for a morning snackie, salad with tuna or chicken for lunch, some kind of random low-carb snack for afternoon snackie (when I eat one), and meat and salad for dinner — if I’m being good, that is. If I’m not being good, I might have low-carb spaghetti with low-carb cheese sauce and a spoonful of salsa. Or tortilla pizza.
The good news, though, is that my skin fits a little differently these days. Sounds weird, but it’s true. My boobs in particular have that pinchable flap of empty skin. It isn’t obvious at first, even in the nude — but if I pinch at the skin of my boob, or of my gut, there’s a good three-quarters of an inch of totally empty skin that I can pinch and roll around between my fingers. I have to believe that’s a good sign.
My fat also feels different to me. Less dense, and more… watery? Jiggly? I’m not sure how to describe it. It feels less substantial, at any rate. That could be my imagination, or the contrast of being able to feel muscle resolidifying under the layer of fat. In any case, it’s also a weird change.
I’m not giving up. I can stick to this thing. Eventually, my mind and body will get in a mutual groove, and the weight will come pouring off. Until then, I can’t go all wonky with a giant splurge-ariffic cheat weekend again. Salads and carryout containers for me. No Happy Rose Buffet. (Duh.) I can do this.
Go me. Rrrah.