Yeah, I know. I skipped this the past week (or two. three?).
In all honesty, it's because I knew I wasn't doing well. I was eating whole, clean food... and junk. I was limiting my wine intake to the weekend... and drinking beer during the week. And I wasn't going to the gym. Throw in a bunch of work travel (and yeah, I packed my work-out clothes... then sat around the hotel room watching crap TV)... well. Yeah.
On top of it all, I have been pretty blue lately. I hate to say depressed because I know people who struggle with depression, and saying I am depressed seems... I don't know... not right. I'm worried. And tense. And stressed. And work hasn't been easy.Not depressed, right?
But this morning I figured f'ck it, it's not like seeing that number is going to make me feel worse, you know? So I got on the scale.
And the number was smaller.
So I got off, moved the scale and got on again. Same number. Repeat. Same number. Huh.
Mind, it isn't a big loss. But it isn't a gain. So that's something. And add it to the other incremental movements downward, and it totals 3.5 pounds since January. So at this rate I should reach my healthy weight goal when I'm like 47. Ok, not really, and slow and steady wins the race, right? Especially those races where everyone gets a medal for finishing. Which are the only kind I do because let's be real here - I am not a rabbit. I'm a turtle. Slowly making my way to the finish.
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