afterwards

Lean Cuisine Orange Chicken.

So on Friday I attended my neighbor's birthday party, which kicked off a weekend of wacky eating for me. I planned and plotted, but food got the best of me. Two pieces of pizza were worked into my points count. But three were not. The breadstick was not. And neither was the cake and ice cream. And then Saturday rolled around, and while I was at Donna's helping put together a shed, she ordered sub sandwiches. Did I need to eat the whole thing? No. But I was hungry, and it would have fit within my points for the day. And I did avoid the tempting barbeque chips and the tray of magnificent looking brownies.

The trouble began when I got home. That salty roast beef, melty cheese, and white bread set something off in my brain - suddenly lights were going off, bells were ringing, my hair was vibrating. My head screamed MORE MORE MORE and my eyes dilated and spun in opposite directions. If I didn't eat something, I would die. WOULD DIE.

At least I tried to do the least amount of damage. I had 99% fat free microwave popcorn (but blew it with a few tablespoons of butter), then I wanted something sweet, so I had a slice of toast with peanut butter and honey. Compared to how I was eating over the summer, this wasn't bad at all. There were no drive thrus, pints of ice cream, or greasy napkins involved. But still not great, especially combined with the birthday party food.

In the middle of beating myself up, I took a deep breath and talked myself through it. I could either go the route of "screw it, I failed, I can't do this" and drown in a sea of trans fats, refined sugar, and big pants. Or I could say, OK, fine, this wasn't your most successful weekend. There's nothing you can do about it now. It's how you deal with the afterwards that's important.

Today is my afterwards, my decision to stay on the plan, and stifle the annoying place in my head where taco supremes and cinnamon twists seem like a good idea. I have to push past the mentality that since I slipped up a few times, I've somehow undone the work of the past four weeks. The fact is that my pants, which used to cut into my waist, are now too big. My jeans, though I can't sit down in them, can be zipped and buttoned, and they haven't been for quite awhile. If I fill my head with all the good things I've accomplished, there will be no room for giving up. That's the plan, anyway.