What is it about Sunday evenings that brings out my renewed strength and resolve to make this week a better one than the last? 2 words - guilt and frustration. I enjoyed 4 nights in a row of bad behavior. Wednesday night was a monthly girls' night out (GNO) with some lovely ladies. I didn't eat (bonus) but indulged in 2 vodka tonics (the tall ones) and was out until midnight. I've been reading that sleep is very important when it comes to weight loss, which is why I mention the time I got home. I never get more than 6 hours a night, which is probably sabotaging my efforts.
Thursday night's activities involved 2 glasses of red wine, the most tender sauteed calamari I've had in a while and quite possibly an entire loaf of Italian bread with oil and grated cheese. Friday started in the afternoon and went til the next morning with countless glasses of white wine, more calamari (the fried variety) some pizza, and a late night wedge (full of blue cheese and bacon) and a brownie sundae. I would have worked out Saturday morning while the girl was at gymnastics, if I wasn't so beat and bloated. Saturday night for my weekly date night was more of the same - this time apple martinis, some Japanese short rib and a mushroom risotto that I could have eaten over and over again. So that sums up the evenings - the days weren't much better. No alcohol, of course, but lots of bad things. Suffice it to say there were doughnuts, creamed chipped beef, mac and cheese, meatball subs, General Tso's even McDonald's. It wasn't pretty. Remember the five pounds I was bragging about losing a couple weeks ago - yeah whatever. I haven't really lost an ounce.
So I will try again tomorrow. Packing lots of good stuff to take to work. Oatmeal, yogurt, fruit, etc. We'll see. Oh did I mention I'm not a vegetarian anymore? That lasted maybe a week. My bean consumption was interfering with the air quality at work. It's embarrassing!
I can't forget the exercise. Maybe I'll train for the Broad Street Run with my better half. Read that last sentence again. Ha - like if I write it maybe it will happen. You see, I can run for about 45 minutes tops and that's at a pace of no more than 5 miles per hour. I have short legs - what can I say? I swear I can be on the treadmill at the gym running fast - matching the dude next to me stride for stride - my machine says 4.5 mph, and his says 6.5 mph. Not fair. Stay tuned for my 10 mile training regimen. Should be riveting!