So yesterday morning I leapt out of bed, barely resisting the temptation to rub my hands together in glee as I manoeuvred the bitch in the bathroom onto her usual tile for the weekly weigh-in. Over the last week, my input has been outstanding. I finished the week knowing that my eating had been completely clean, and I’d accrued fifty five extra exercise points that I hadn’t even dipped into, I mean that’s hardcore, right? I was able to look myself square in the eye and know I couldn’t have done more.
One pound off. All that, and I lost one measly poxy pound. How is that even possible? Despite the usual routine of multiple step-ons on different tiles the bitch failed to yield so much as an extra ounce, and after twenty four hours’ reflection it still feels spectacularly unfair that a body that is still carrying so much blubber can only offer up one solitary fucking pound.
And breathe…I refuse to get down about it because don’t we all know how fast that makes the wheels come off? I’m trying to be philosophical, so I’m choosing my reaction carefully and after a lot of thought I have chosen to focus on the positives instead. Of which there are many, actually.
My shoulder is feeling better…God of Pain is slowly reintroducing kettle bells into my circuit training. (Asshole voice just spat out his morning coffee – you’re looking for positives and THAT comes out of your mouth first??? We HATE kettle bells, they’re a THING.) Well yes, I know I hate the blasted things but every time I feel the burn I know they’re working stuff that needs to be worked so I don’t need to enjoy them, I just need to embrace the discomfort and appreciate what they can do for me.
My shape is changing, so although the pounds are clinging like shit to a stick I’m prepared to concede that the the way I look continues to go in the right direction. People are noticing, you know? If my weight was dropping more quickly but I couldn’t see much of a difference in the way I looked I’d be even more pissed off, so on balance I’d rather have it this way around. I’m choosing to believe that I’ve got the whole muscle weighs heavier than fat thing going on under the surface, which feels more like a reason than an excuse.
My biggest victory of all this week? One chocolate biscuit and a cup of tea for supper on Saturday. Uhuh *nods* yes you really did hear me say one chocolate biscuit. And it wasn’t the last one either, you know like accidental self-control which doesn’t really count? There’s a whole packet in the cupboard, and I just had one. With fifty-five untouched exercise points on the table which were due to expire at midnight, I still just had one.
Go on, admit it…I am a rockstar 🙂
This week is going to take some careful thought. I’m working away the last two days of the week, so controlling my diet is going to be more of a challenge, and I’ll also have to miss three of the classes I normally go to. I’ve substituted them for different ones so I’m good with it. I can adapt. Plus, there’s a gym at the hotel we’re staying in so I’m all over that. And after a cracking walk yesterday with some of my Kingdom of Pain buddies, we’ve lined another one up for next Saturday…there won’t be a day where I don’t do something.
Onwards, right? Let’s see what the bitch can throw at me next week 🙂
