Frustrated is just the beginning.
I decided I was tired of gaining and losing the same pound for a month, so I (gasp) started exercising last week. For 30 minutes each day, I hopped on our elliptical and ran through one of its programs. (Side note: The iPad is the BEST thing ever for this. Super Spouse loaded “Taken”, one of the Bourne movies, and “The Dark Knight” on it, so after eating dinner and cleaning the kitchen, I’d pop in some earbuds and watch Liam Neeson kick some major ass for a half hour.)
At the end of the week, my stamina had already improved. I was going faster than I had to with the program. I actually went 40 minutes two days in a row because it wasn’t a good spot to stop in the movie.
So I was feeling pretty confident this week that I had lost at least that one damned pound and was back on track for success. So this morning when I hopped on the scale after going to the bathroom and before putting anything into my mouth, I had … gained a pound.
The Super Spouse, being the wonderful guy he is, reminded me that Aunt Flo is with us this week and that maybe next week all the work I put in on the elliptical will start paying off. Maybe. And then I thought about it, and I realized that although I have been loosely following the Weight Watcher plan that I’m on, I haven’t tracked any of my food this week, because it was super busy and I didn’t want to deal with it.
So I’m starting over. This coming week, I shall track every single-dingle item of food or drink that passes my lips and I shall continue to watch movies while I exercise each night.
I’m also going to get so skinny that I weigh as much as Oliver Twist (After More). I think I need that scale, if only for the occasional laugh. Although if it tells me I’m bigger than Mr. Ed, I just might cry.