In short: I didn’t try on my goal clothes today.  I have been sick for most of the week and haven’t exercised; while I have stayed well within my dietary allowances, I’m also sloshing around like a cheap kiddie swimming pool.  Hopefully the water will be gone by this time, next week, and I’ll venture a try on.

This doesn’t happen often, but this week, I have wanted to stray.  Maybe part of it was just the need for convenience; I didn’t want to go through the effort to cook or make anything. And I think part of it was this stupid internal thing of feeling sorry for myself. My pants fit tighter this week because I’m carrying what feels like a significant amount of water weight, and those sensors that scream “failure!” were hard at work, moving me toward the Frito bag on the counter (didn’t do it) and the bottle of shiraz (also didn’t do it).

That’s something I’ll have to continually be aware of: when my brain tells me I’ve failed, it also tells me I should eat things that aren’t going to help that failure, setting me up for even more misery.  That makes as much sense as thinking “I didn’t lose a pound this week, so I’m gonna eat that box of jelly donuts!”  How does that solve anything? Still, especially when I’m sick, that voice is strong.  It’s always just under the surface.

The other part of this is the need to remind myself that I need to take care of my body.  Not exercising for a week, when my body is trying to recover, isn’t the end of the world — as long as I’m back at it next week, which I will be.