I was talking to myself in the car Monday, loudly and with much frustration. I lectured myself while driving into work. But I think I took it pretty well. I was sipping my morning coffee and braving the suburban rush hour side streets, my brain racing with my work appointments, deadlines and goals to meet for the week and just hit a point where I needed to kick my own ass. I'm fighting this weight loss/health battle. I've been fighting the weight loss battle for years and winning occasionally, but more often just raising the white flag of surrender. But Monday, as I had some quiet time in the car, with NPR droning away in the background, I had a little epiphany. I'm tired. I'm tired of fighting and failing myself. I'm tired of doing this whole thing only half way. I'm tired of not expecting more from myself and I'm tired of being fat.
So that was Monday. And I made some serious steps this week. I've already worked out a couple of times with Tara this week. We walked at the mall which was a little stuffy and dull and we delved into the frightening world of aerobic dance videos, which feature a shocking amount of camel toe and headbands. I lost two pounds. Joe and I worked up a health contract, to hold ourselves accountable and set some goals together. And that iron-clad beast is posted right up on the refrigerator, berating and taunting us when we get too close to it. So since Monday I'm feeling better. I'm weighing myself everyday. I'm logging whatever I eat into the Lose It application on my iPhone (it is awesome) and I'm just generally more focused since Monday's lecture. That doesn't mean there aren't some slip ups. Joe ordered Girl Scout cookies from a coworker, and when did they get delivered? This week of course.
So yeah, I've had some cookies. And yeah, we've eaten out a couple of times. But I feel on track, and like next week can only get better. More work outs, better food choices and a better attitude. Otherwise I'm going to get a stern lecture, possibly even grounded.