It’s been a confusing week for me… I’m been upside down and inside out. (Blame Diana Ross.)

Just about right on schedule, my weight hit a small decline. I’ve lost .8 pounds since last week; it’s still weight loss, and I’ll take it. (This now lands me 6.4 pounds above my low.) Weight loss slowed down, but why? What’s to blame?

I didn’t bother with the snooze button, because I didn’t set the alarm.

Myself, that’s who — because this last week has been a reminder that successful weight loss is often not just about what goes in your mouth. I’ve recorded every sip and bite that has passed these lips for the last 24 days, and I’ve been well within the proper ranges. Right on the money, in fact.

I’ve learned, in the past, that I have to have certain things in place for weight to move downward, and food intake is just one piece of the puzzle. I need to drink enough water to keep my body from trying to hold onto water weight. I have to get enough consistent rest, as well. There are a few other things, but these are the major ones.

There’s something about my husband going on a trip that turns me into a teenager in regards to taking care of myself. Yes, I kept to my diet, but everything else went out the window the moment he walked out the door. I didn’t keep up with drinking enough water, which is a constant struggle for me. And I certainly didn’t get enough sleep.

I’m normally an early riser, but if I’m alone in the house, I transform into a night owl; I saw midnight every night but one, and a few times, I saw the small hours of the morning. Unlike a teenager, though, I’d wake up when the sun brightened the bedroom and woke the dog — usually around 7:30, at the latest, and if I went to bed at 3, that just wasn’t going to work for a productive day and a restful sleep.

Consequently, I’d about fall on my face asleep before noon, take a quick nap, stay awake for a few hours and do the things I needed to do, yawn at 7 pm, swear I’d go to bed at a decent time, and then see 1 am on the clock, again. As you can imagine, the times I’d eat were as goofy as heck, too.

Incidentally, I work from home, which means I can do my work at whatever time I feel like it, but I try to keep traditional work hours. This week? Spin the roulette wheel, see what hour it lands on, and maybe that would be the consecutive hours of sleep I’d get… as long as it’s under 5.

My husband is back home, and I’m regulating my schedule, again. While I’ve been frustrated at the scale, I have to remember that I have to do everything right to succeed — not just one or two things. Slow loss this week is a consequence of my actions. I believe that every once in a while, it’s both necessary and fun to change things up; I don’t regret my silly nocturnal bonding with the tv remote, or playing the living room sound system loudly at 10 pm (for all of about 15 minutes), but the consequence is that I throw my body off its rhythm.

It’s time to get back to reality… and push it.

(You’re welcome for the earworms.)