2005-06-01
rough night after weighing in
Alrighty, the manditory cast page, updated and spiffy, is all there. Now I just need to refer to these people by their assigned names. Yeah, that might happen.
So on to last night. My weigh in sucked. I knew it was going to be a gain. I walked freaking 12 miles last week! What I didn't expect was 3.4 pounds. Stupidty over took medicated sanity and I binged all the way home. I was sickly miserable. To make it even better, Mr.Drunky was there when I arrived. As much as I would have liked to toss it all up on him, I didn't.
After the yack fest I called EvilG and confessed to her. She gave me a lot of tough love but apparently I still hated myself since I went for round two of b/p. I thought I had common sense, but as proven I don't. My clothes fit the best they ever have, I can see I'm retaining water, and while I did not journal, I in no way ate that many calories. Plus I didn't b/p all week. Why is it then that the "well, this is so fucked up!" part of my brain gets to railroad the intelligent part to hell and back?
Seriously, my thought was "this is what I get for taking care of myself?" and I snapped. I did what frustrates me to no end about other people losing weight. I went postal over a number. Not only that but a lying number! I knew this. I thought this. The "fuck this" part stomped on that logic like Godzilla going through down town Tokyo. It so wasn't pretty. Or healthy. Or good for me.
That was last night. Today is a new day. I've got my journal. I'm recording what I eat. I'm going to walk today. I'm going to keep repeating that despite the number I see on the scale, what I'm doing is far more important to the state of my body than that number. Walking makes me strong. Walking makes me healthy. Walking makes muscles.
It will all come together. Right?
Right?