I didn't go to WW last week. I should have made the time but I didn't. I haven't been to Weight Watchers in almost two weeks. I haven't counted a point in almost two weeks. I haven't even really been making an effort to eat reasonably. In fact, I've eaten dreadfully. I've had more chocolate than I should have. I've eaten full meals (practically) after getting home from work at 1:00 in the morning. I've had what we call around here, "Truck treats" (that's the crap that I'm in the habit of eating when I'm out running errands). Other than shoveling the driveway, I haven't done any exercise.
So I was prepared for a gain of at least four or five pounds. And I debated about waiting until after the holidays to go back to WW. I figured I'd let myself have free reign for another couple of days. But I decided against that. I decided that facing the music would have to be the kick in the pants that I needed to get back on track. I worried that a gain would make me give up. But I KNEW that not going to weigh in and being accountable for my actions would be more likely to make me give up. So, I went.
I was up. We all knew that was coming. I was up .2 ...
I'm beginning to think that the medication I was on was having more of an effect on my weight than I thought. It's really the only explanation.
My Thought Chain
7 years ago