Last week I had the flu. I didn't want to eat anything, couldn't eat anything, and didn't eat much. Just enough chicken noodle soup to keep body and soul together. And ice cream, yesterday, when we were "celebrating" being over the flu. And today, when Mary and I were out shopping. The rest, for the past week, was chicken noodle soup. And some veggies. And some crackers.
I gained weight. Just .2 pound, but I gained? Isn't the reward for suffering through the flu losing some weight?
I've been pretty quiet about Weight Watchers since fall. After tooting my own horn obnoxiously, I gained back 5 pounds. It was Grandma's funeral, then Thanksgiving, then Christmas, then traveling to see Matthew... I figured I got off easy, only gaining 5 pounds. I've since lost it, plus a little. But I'm at a 8-0 barrier again. Whenever my weight is in the 8's to 0's, like 128-130, or 118-120 (in my dreams!) I really have to work hard to break through there and move further down. So I'm stuck at 18 pounds left to lose, and there's only one answer.
I'm going to have to watch my diet and exercise smarter, if not harder. Probably both. Which makes it two answers. I'm recommitting myself to do this. You wouldn't think people would obsess about such things, would you? Just stop eating and work out, or, give it up and eat what they want to eat, the heck with what the doctor says. But we do obsess about this. And there are little milestones along the way to help us out. Like today, I put on a belt I haven't worn since before Mary was born. That's 14+ years ago! Granted, it was on the very last hole, but, hey, it was on! And I coulda used the 2nd hole, but the last was really more comfortable.
Enough navel gazing. I'll have to get over myself if I want to do this, and I do. So now I'm on to other things.
Wonder if the Charles Shaw Shiraz is any good?