Day Thirty-Two
Folks, I overate today.
I didn't gorge myself, and I didn't eat sugar, though.
I went to bed super early last night, hoping to get plenty of sleep and plenty of exercise--maybe two workouts--by morning. I was awakened by a text from a son needing a ride home from work. I was too sleepy, and medicated, so he got one from his dad, but I kept expecting him to walk in at some point, and that expectation kept me awake even though I told myself to sleep.
I ended up being awake until 3:30. I did everything. I got up and straightened my bedroom some. I read newspapers. I did Sudokus. I took a half-dose of a sleeping pill. I finally broke down and had a glass of milk and one more small sugar-free brownie, though I didn't want to eat in the night and usually do not, because, after fasting all day and then having just one small meal, my stomach was howling at me.
So, my best-laid plans were foiled. I did not get enough sleep, and I did not get a good workout. On top of that, my weight was temporarily up so high, it was almost like I had never started this project at all.
I should have weight-lifted, but I spent all my time on the elliptical, what forty-five minutes I had. I did not even do crunches because both benches were filled.
I went to work, and the staff meeting treats included bananas and grapes, muffins, and chips and salsa. I had one banana and a few chips with salsa. But I had also brought up my baggie of cherries, and, by the time the 140-minute meeting finally ended, I had eaten them all. I had lunch, and a couple of sugar-free brownies. I had a few handfuls of seeds. I had been so hungry yesterday that I almost felt like I needed to inhale food.
Not good, I know.
But I was angry today. And anxious. My oldest son was defending his dissertation, and I was on pins and needles for him. I was angry that my weight had jumped up. I mean, what the heck? I was angry because tomorrow, I could have retired from thirty years of public service, but my ex selfishly ruined my retirement in my divorce. He didn't have to, and promised a few times that he wouldn't, but, in the end, did. I was disappointed, and discouraged.
I realize that it's not just sugar making me fat. I need to make some other changes.
For dinner, I had one homemade hamburger, but I felt too full again. I really hate that feeling, and I am starting to realize that I just can't eat much anymore. That could be a good thing, if I honor it.
I woke in the night. Lying there, I felt as heavy as I did a month ago--like my legs would not even support my weight, and nothing in the world could clothe me. I realized that I never want to feel this way again, and I need to recommit to this project and do better. I got up for a drink of water and told myself that, since I actually felt pretty good, I should go and weight-lift. The set that I am supposed to do next involves free weights and a bench, and, by the time I usually get there in the morning, that area is crowded. I might honestly not ever do that routine for a long time unless I go in the night. I was feeling too full, I wasn't sleepy, someone in the household was snoring spectacularly, so I wasn't going to go right back to sleep, anyway. It was the right thing to do.
I haven't been to the gym in the middle of the night in a long time. But I went. The weight-lifting was easily done, with no one around. I stopped after two sets of each of the eight things I do in this routine, because an arm was feeling too tight where it has been compromised. My goal is not to further hurt myself. And then, since I was already there, I did twenty-seven minutes on the elliptical. Combined with the forty-five I did earlier, that puts me even with the seventy-two I did on Saturday. I felt somewhat less uncomfortable afterward.
I didn't gorge myself, and I didn't eat sugar, though.
I went to bed super early last night, hoping to get plenty of sleep and plenty of exercise--maybe two workouts--by morning. I was awakened by a text from a son needing a ride home from work. I was too sleepy, and medicated, so he got one from his dad, but I kept expecting him to walk in at some point, and that expectation kept me awake even though I told myself to sleep.
I ended up being awake until 3:30. I did everything. I got up and straightened my bedroom some. I read newspapers. I did Sudokus. I took a half-dose of a sleeping pill. I finally broke down and had a glass of milk and one more small sugar-free brownie, though I didn't want to eat in the night and usually do not, because, after fasting all day and then having just one small meal, my stomach was howling at me.
So, my best-laid plans were foiled. I did not get enough sleep, and I did not get a good workout. On top of that, my weight was temporarily up so high, it was almost like I had never started this project at all.
I should have weight-lifted, but I spent all my time on the elliptical, what forty-five minutes I had. I did not even do crunches because both benches were filled.
I went to work, and the staff meeting treats included bananas and grapes, muffins, and chips and salsa. I had one banana and a few chips with salsa. But I had also brought up my baggie of cherries, and, by the time the 140-minute meeting finally ended, I had eaten them all. I had lunch, and a couple of sugar-free brownies. I had a few handfuls of seeds. I had been so hungry yesterday that I almost felt like I needed to inhale food.
Not good, I know.
But I was angry today. And anxious. My oldest son was defending his dissertation, and I was on pins and needles for him. I was angry that my weight had jumped up. I mean, what the heck? I was angry because tomorrow, I could have retired from thirty years of public service, but my ex selfishly ruined my retirement in my divorce. He didn't have to, and promised a few times that he wouldn't, but, in the end, did. I was disappointed, and discouraged.
I realize that it's not just sugar making me fat. I need to make some other changes.
For dinner, I had one homemade hamburger, but I felt too full again. I really hate that feeling, and I am starting to realize that I just can't eat much anymore. That could be a good thing, if I honor it.
I woke in the night. Lying there, I felt as heavy as I did a month ago--like my legs would not even support my weight, and nothing in the world could clothe me. I realized that I never want to feel this way again, and I need to recommit to this project and do better. I got up for a drink of water and told myself that, since I actually felt pretty good, I should go and weight-lift. The set that I am supposed to do next involves free weights and a bench, and, by the time I usually get there in the morning, that area is crowded. I might honestly not ever do that routine for a long time unless I go in the night. I was feeling too full, I wasn't sleepy, someone in the household was snoring spectacularly, so I wasn't going to go right back to sleep, anyway. It was the right thing to do.
I haven't been to the gym in the middle of the night in a long time. But I went. The weight-lifting was easily done, with no one around. I stopped after two sets of each of the eight things I do in this routine, because an arm was feeling too tight where it has been compromised. My goal is not to further hurt myself. And then, since I was already there, I did twenty-seven minutes on the elliptical. Combined with the forty-five I did earlier, that puts me even with the seventy-two I did on Saturday. I felt somewhat less uncomfortable afterward.
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