Well, I’m not gaining any weight. Unfortunately, I’m not losing any, either.
I’ll admit I haven’t been eating right all the time. Or exercising…much. But I *have* been trying. Baby steps, right?
Or not. I feel like I’m depriving myself yet again when I have a salad instead of a sandwich. The smoothies are satisfying, but a pain to make (especially since I have to make them when my husband is off the clock because the blender is so loud). So much easier to grab an ice cream sandwich out of the freezer instead.
I want to eat better. I really do. But I don’t. Not really. Does that make sense?
*Sigh* What I wouldn’t give for my 22-year-old self’s metabolism. That would be great. Too bad life happens. You get older, you aren’t able to eat the things you used to without consequences. When I was in my first year of college, I could take a box of Oreos, a tub of Cool Whip, and an hour or so just eating away. Fudge Rounds go well dipped in Cool Whip, too. And eating frosting straight out of the tub? Yep, I did that, too, with no weight gain. Ah, memories.
I don’t know what needs to change–inside my head or out–to get me to behave. Some major health crisis? I’ve already injured my knee six months ago after a two mile walk. That alone should have been enough to make me wise up and work out, but sadly it just got me more depressed that I couldn’t even walk to the grocery store and back without having a problem. Depression is not a great motivator.
I have a little more than two months until Phoenix Comicon to at least somewhat shape up. Can I do it? I’m doubting myself more each day, but maybe I can lose a few pounds. Maybe.