I gain three pounds. Simple math, right? But yet why was I so surprise to step on the scale with the trainer tonight to see that my weight is almost exactly where it was three weeks ago. No progress but a step in the wrong direction. And why was I suprised that the trainer chose tonight to kick my ass in training? Shouldn't she? Don't I need a decent ass kicking to kick myself back in gear?
Indeed I did need it.
And now every muscle in my body is pleading with me to not forget this simple math again. Just because Heroes and Handbags Dallas is this Friday is not an excuse to eat whatever I want and neglect my diet. Just because I'm stress doesn't mean I can't find a better alternative to the Easter candy I so love (seriously--why did that damn Easter bunny think Reese's peanut butter cups were a good idea for this little one??).
Don't you wish that broccoli tasted as good as chocolate? Or that boiled chicken magically tasted as yummy and delicious as fried? I dream about it. Sadly, it has yet to happen.
And so, I return to the diet. Becuase only a little over a week of cheating and I've gained three pounds. Must get a handle of this before it begins to multiply into six and then nine. It does have a tendency to do that.