Good Week, Bad Week

After my big loss last week, I've taken it a little too easy this week. I haven't been pushing myself as hard on my runs. I've kept my food in check, though, and I've been really trying to pay attention instead of just cruising along in auto-pilot mode. I've done a lot of writing (just haven't published all of it), and spent a lot of time thinking about what's up with me lately.

Some things I've figured out:

Most of the "treat" food I think I want is really, really, really not worth it.

I had lunch with Smith and his wife on Thursday. We got takeout pizza from the Italian place by my house. This is pizza that I LOVE, like eat it once a week because ohhhh the greasy goodness LOVE. I was really hungry when the pizza arrived, and it smelled so good. But halfway through the second piece, I just realized that it didn't really taste that good. It was greasy, salty, everything I thought I wanted, but...bleh. It wasn't disgusting, don't get me wrong, and Fattie was certainly delighted. It just didn't taste as good as I remembered. And afterwards, I had a bellyache from the grease. Urp.

Then last night, I had to go to my store's Holiday meeting (not a party, we just sit around and talk retail). All of the holiday pastries we are selling this year were set up on the tables, cut into convenient bite-sized pieces. In years past, I have eaten at least a half to three quarters of a tray of these things. This year, I had a small piece of each just so I could taste if they were any different from last year, and then I was done. And again, it really didn't taste that good. I didn't feel tempted, I didn't feel like it was a big deal to say "No, I tried that one, I'm good."

I need to focus on my victories, no matter how small, instead of beating myself up.

Anyone who knows me will tell you that I'm the queen of self-depracating humor. I learned a long time ago that if I beat everyone to the punch, and come up with the meanest or funniest joke, then nobody else will take a stab at teasing me. The problem is, nobody wants to tease me anymore (well, except maybe Smith and Hubs when they get together), so I don't need the defense mechanism. What I need to do is remind myself that for the most part, I am a pretty kickass person, and I deserve to feel good about myself. For example, I've lost a total of fourteen pounds. FOURTEEN POUNDS IS A BIG DEAL, even when I know I have many, many more pounds to lose. Another example? What used to be my ZOMG DEATH ON TEH TREADMILL running pace is now my "warmup" pace. Oh yeah, and how about the fact that I've shrunk out of my jeans AND two sizes of underwear?

Routine is very, very good for me.

To some it may seem boring, or even robotic. But for me, doing the same thing, in the same order, every day is extremely comforting and sustaining. Get up at the same time, eat my same breakfast, same bedtime, same same same same same. Routine is what makes it easier to get up at 3 AM and run, to turn down junk food, to keep the house under control.

My uterus is not the boss of me.

I used to blame everything on Aunt Flo. Gained weight? Her fault. Feeling tired? Her fault. Being an insanely cranky bitch and biting the heads off everyone around you? So totally her fault. But guess what? Her = me. And I'm not going to lay around on the couch for a week eating crap and allowing myself to get away with it because my uterus is in purge mode. It's become clear through this and a couple of other minor physical challenges that my brain can convince my body to do (or not do) whatever it wants. I'm just going to keep doing what I'm doing, and my body can cooperate or get left behind.

So I'd say it's been a good week overall, and I'm going to finish strong with my run and workout tomorrow. RAH!