On Monday of last week, I weighed 164.4 lbs. Same on Tuesday. Wednesday, I weighed myself to find I was at a lower weight than I had been in years. I thought to myself, "Hm. All this eating right and working out are actually working for me!"
So I tried to be good this weekend. I had one drink on Saturday, one on Sunday, and when we went out to eat, I took half of my meal home. I even resisted the urge to drink far too much homemade Irish Creme (so delicious...so thick)! I told some of my coworkers that my goal was for the scale to show the same or smaller number than it did on Friday, since I always gained weight on the weekend.
And here's where the title of this blog comes in. That's OBVIOUSLY not from my handiwork, at least in my own mind, because what did I do? I made little decisions and didn't even exercise...like...we usually take walks after meals, and it rained on both attempts we made. So...WTF? And me, poor little old me, starts to think.
Do tumors weigh less than other tissue? Maybe I have some kind of disease and my body is slowly dissolving from the inside. Maybe it's just all my muscle (as if there's much of that...) leaving in a huff...I mist be sick. I can't have possibly lost two pounds this weekend...because...that would mean...
What? That eating better actually helps? That being a little smart and conscious about what goes in my body might actually lead to shedding some of this spare tire? That I don't have a suspicious wasting disease?
And I know I'm not fat. But I also know I'm not satisfied with the way my body looks. So...all that aside...no discussion there.
You guys...my brain is stupid. Like...terminal-disease-instead-of-hard-work-paying-off stupid. Either that or I'm dying.