I've Been a Bad, Bad Girl...

I have a big confession to make. I have officially fallen off the wagon.

It started innocently enough. I couldn't make it to a weigh-in. Then I didn't want to go the next week because I had been given a bunch of IV fluids after a major migraine sent me to the ER. Then the next week school got in the way of my weigh-in.

Cut to last week, when I realized that I couldn't really remember when I went to my last weigh-in.

In my own defense, my school schedule did change this semester, and I'm now in class on the evening that my Weight Watchers meeting was always held on. But it's not the only meeting held in my area. Not by a long shot. As a matter of fact, there are literally Weight Watchers meetings somewhere in my vicinity seven days a week. I have no real excuse for all that.

I decided to make the change to Weight Watchers online. A big deal for me, because I loved my meetings. But I realized that with my ever changing school schedule and such, it would probably be a better game plan to do it all online and weigh myself at the YMCA, so that I have consistent scales.

So that day, I made my decision. I was going to start weighing in on Thursday mornings at the Y, and I was back in the saddle again. Here I come.

There I went, and I had gained four pounds in the time I was away.

So I swore to myself when I stepped off that scale that I was going to get that four pounds and crush it under my foot. It would be history very, very soon. Never to be seen again. Hasta la vista, baby. Poof. Gone.

Cut to my weigh-in this morning, when I was up another 1.7 pounds.

Now, I could very easily rationalize this away. I could blame it on my Aunt Flow, who came to visit Sunday night. I could blame it on the fact that I weighed about two hours earlier than I weighed the last time. I could even blame it on the fact that the bra I had on today had padding in it, thus was MUCH heavier than the cotton sports bra I wore last week.

But the fact of the matter is, I know exactly where that weight has come from.

I vowed that this week I would track every morsel of food that went into my mouth. I had gotten away from tracking my points in the time that I was skipping weigh-ins, and I made a solemn promise that from that point on, I was going to track everything. However, I didn't promise that I wouldn't do the "liberal tracking" method common to us diet backsliders. You know what I'm talking about. You pour salad dressing on your plate at the salad bar (and it's NOT the fat free kind, either) then you say, "Eh, that looks like about an eighth of a cup." Even though you know that it's probably closer to a third of a cup, but you just don't want to take the points hit. You know, Weight Watchers actually doesn't work when you make up your own liberal version of their rules? Dude, why didn't somebody tell me?

Anyway, not only did I commit the above mentioned sin, but I also tracked my way right into a point deficit. Yes, that's right, even with all that liberal point tracking, I still managed to go into the hole for the week. I can only imagine what the real damage would have been if I had been honest about the points of the food I was putting into my mouth. Actually, I don't want to imagine how bad it would have been. Too depressing. Let's just say pretty damn bad and leave it at that.

Also take into account that more nights than not, I consumed chicken fingers and french fries from the hospital cafeteria with the gusto of a person who hadn't seen solid food in a month or so. Yeah, that's never a good thing.

As if these sinful acts weren't shameful enough, let's delve into my workout routine for the week. Or rather, the lack thereof.

I started out with the best of intentions. Really, I did. But you know what they say about what road is paved with good intentions don't you? That's right, and into the fiery pits of hell I went.

I found this awesome website, swimplan.com. They ask you questions about the pool you swim in, your swimming abilities, the purpose of your workouts, etc., then they tailor a plan to your specific criteria. I was so excited that I ran off to the pool with my swimplan in hand.

First of all, it had been a minute or two since I had darkened the doorway of the gym. So needless to say, the moderate intensity level that I asked for when I created my swimplan more than moderately kicked my ass. It was a 45 minute routine, and 20 minutes in I was waving the white flag and wondering if I should beg the teenaged lifeguard to come rescue me.

No biggie. I got home, logged on, and adjusted my swimplan to make it a bit easier, but not too easy. I printed it off, stuck it in a plastic protective sleeve, and headed to my car for work, ready to do some damage in the pool the next morning.

But it didn't happen. I was too tired after working all night. Then the next day I felt like crap. Then the next day was a clinical day. Then the next day I didn't want to take Aunt Flow to the pool with me. Then the next day I hadn't shaved my legs.

I am not making these up for humor purposes, people. These are the exact, honest to God excuses that I made for not going to the pool, or going to workout on any of the bazillion devices available to me at the Y.

It goes without saying that I earned every ounce of that 1.7 pound gain.

But now I'm mad. I'm so mad at myself that I would kick my own ass if I were double jointed. I have worked so freaking hard to lose weight. I'm getting compliments from people. I'm feeling better. Why am I trying to sabotage myself? The only excuse for what I've done is pure laziness. I slacked off, and all of a sudden, I don't want to put in the work anymore.

So here, today, right now, this moment, I'm taking a stand. And I'm putting it out there for all of you to see, and hopefully help hold me to it.

I will track all of of my food honestly. That means that if I eat a brownie the size of my head, I don't track it as 1 1/2 brownies. There is no place on earth that would consider that much of a brownie a serving and a half.

I will stay within my points allowance. If I know that I only have three more points for the day, I won't go grab the keys and head to Taco Bell.

I will make wise food choices. This means that if I get to the cafeteria, and the hot bar line doesn't have something healthy that appeals to me, I won't immediately hop over to the grille line, where the food has to be drained of grease before it's given to me.

I will work out at the Y, even if it's only for 15 minutes. I always feel so much better after a workout, and I have no clue why I fight it so hard at times. I mean, I've been known to make more excuses to get out of working out than a politician caught with some woman's panties on his head.

And brace yourself folks, because here's the clincher, borrowed from a dear, sweet fantabulous to the maximus friend of mine.

If I gain more than one pound in a given week, I am grounded from Facebook until I'm back on track.

I know! It's a punishment of the worst kind. Guantanamo Bay wouldn't even subject its captives to such brutal horrors! But desperate times call for desperate measures, and I WILL NOT allow myself to gain back the weight that I've worked so freaking hard to lose.

Today, I swam 35 minutes. I feel like a million bucks right now. I leave Sunday to go on my beach vacation, and I'll be on my best behaviour around the food, but I'm allowing myself a little leeway. But after that, it's game on at the weigh-in. More than a pound up, and I'm grounded from Facebook. And I've already informed the hubs of this plan, and trust me, he's so possessive over the computer for his mistress, aka World of Warcraft, that he will gladly enforce the Facebook grounding.

So that's the plan. No more excuses and no more whining. No more major food sins and no more lying about what really went into my mouth. Hopefully, all of that will also lead to no more big gains!

If not, then expect this blog to really grow, cause I'll be bored as hell without my Facebook!