I had a dream last night that I was planning to attend a Friday kickboxing class at the Fitness Center at my work, but I realized that the workout clothes in my bag were still dirty from the previous week’s workout. I considered working out in my dirty gear, but the idea of not having fresh underwear to change into after class (sorry, TMI) was enough to just make me skip kickboxing. I talked to the instructor, and she said she understood, but that I really need to start coming in and taking a class every Friday, no excuses. Then she apologized up and down for calling me out on it.
My brain speaks the truth. I need to hit up the Fitness Center more often, especially since I’m paying for it.
I’ve been doing better with getting out for walks (I’m listening to an audiobook I’m really enjoying), but I had conflicts for all but one of the classes I would have liked to attend — chiropractor appointment, hands-only CPR training, and then there were those couple days when my face was swollen from poison ivy.
I haven’t blogged about the poison ivy yet, but the Reader’s Digest version is that my face swelled up and I had to hit up Urgent Care for steroids and antihistamines. My weight spiked over a couple of days from the prednisone, but came back down pretty quick, hence why the spike in my max weight didn’t really affect my median weight for the month.
That graph doesn’t look good.
I mean, I’m glad to see my median weight slowing its upward crawl, and I’m glad to see that I improved my lowest weight point over last month, but the slow weight gain — holy shit do not want.
So, the question is one of priorities. Am I willing to trade my weekly street photography session out at Levis Square for a weights session in the gym, if necessary? That’s a hard one, since finding opportunities to photograph and be creative is one of my personal priorities, as well.
Then there’s the ongoing question of how to keep myself from eating in the evenings. When I’m in the right headspace, it’s… well, not easy, per se, but it’s not as hard as when I don’t give a fuck.
So. Action items. A plan for this month. Baby steps. Small, achievable, process-related goals.
- Track all meals and snacks. (I already track most of my food, so this isn’t a big jump.)
- Step foot in the Fitness Center at least once a week.
- Plan my evening snack/dessert ahead of time, and make it one to look forward to.
I would like to see next month’s median weight be lower than this month’s, of course, and I’d like to see a smaller range from lowest to highest weight over the course of the month. Granted, this month’s range won’t be hard to beat (thanks, prednisone!), but I’d like to keep it to, say, four pounds.
Even though I’ll be taking a long weekend to visit Dayton this Friday, which could make healthy eating a challenge, my husband will also be on vacation for two weeks later this month, which will help me avoid the evening binges. I’ve been continuing my meal planning, and I intend to lay off of buying lunch out as often as I have been (well, except for the aforementioned Dayton trip), so I think I’m set up for success this month.
I’m actually kind of psyched to track all through our Dayton trip. I’m sure some of the restaurant food will be a challenge, but just about everything’s trackable when you get down to it. Grandpa’s probably going to want to hit up McDonald’s (a 10 piece Chicken McNuggets is 12 SmartPoints, and one packet of Sweet ‘N Sour Sauce is 3SP, or I could splurge on the 18SP Big Mac since I eat at McDonald’s literally once a year) and/or the Golden Corral (where I know I’ll probably get a second plate of food, but I’ll make it smallish and photograph my food so I can track it later).
I’ve got this. Come on, self. We’ve got this. Future Diana is cheering us on.