And so ...
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Sep. 22nd, 2008 | 07:14 pm
It all begins again. I weighed myself this morning. Scratch that. I forced myself onto the scale, knowning it would be bad. I was pretty frightened - it's been so long since I've weighed myself, and I've been so very bad these past few months (since mid-March, if you must know details). 199.5. So, I've not passed the 200 pound mark, but still! Yikes!
I never did reach 150 like I wanted to, several years ago. I got down to 162, I think. II could fit into my designer clothes; I wasn't mortified to parade around the Beverly Hills Hotel pool in a bathing suit; it really wasn't so bad. But you know, I'm tired of dicking around. I'm sick of *almost* being there, throwing in the towel from the exhaustion of it all, and then putting it all back on.
Can I do it this time? I think I can, I think I can.
I've ordered $200 worth of Medifast. Like I've said, I'm sick of dicking around with Weight-Watchers and all the rest. I mean, sure Weight-Watchers is great, but my god! It takes fucking forever, and I'm desperate to drop a couple of bra sizes!
So today. Today went alright. Vitamins at 6:30, sandwich at 11 am (2 pieces of Alvarado sprouted wheat (I'm waiting for the Medifast to arrive), 2 oz of lean turkey, 1 oz lowfat cheese, 1 tablespoon of Brummel & Brown), ate 1/2 an apple at 2:30, the other half walking to the Metro at 5, then one small carrot on the Metro. For dinner: 1 large green salad with non-fat dressing, 2 small chicken legs, 2 small chicken wings, 2 cups of watermelon, and the vitamins. I know, I know, it's all so irreverent when it comes to sensible eating plans and all that.
Exercise: 1/2 hour of swimming, then 45 minutes of walking. Not so bad.
I can't fit into any of my clothes - two outfits I have, that I can fit into, which I rotate. I don't know if anyone at work notices, nor do I care. It's very European of me, no? In any case, I'll be back all the rest, soon enough, and then, if I'm good, perhaps I'll be able to fit into the "Polish" dress, which I bought several years ago just before I quit my good habits.
It's so horrible to go through my day, commuting, walking downtown, seeing all the lovely clothes in the shop windows, the great outfits that the skinny girls have put together which I can only dream about. There's a pair of boots I want so badly, but I can't get my calves into them. Here they are - they look better in person, I swear. I'm tempted to buy them, if only to provide a carrot for that stick. And then, there was the sweater dress I saw in that FCUK store downtown. Their largest size was a 12 - I didn't dare to try it on - oh my gawd! The humiliation! What a shock that would have been, squeezed into a thin cotton/wool blend sweater, 2 sizes too small. Still, another possible carrot. Why, oh why, must I be poor?