OK, I totally blew off the gym last night.
And I can’t blame Paula Deen. Or anyone else but me. I went into lazy mode as soon as I got home. I was tired. I was frustrated. I had a hard day.
I totally deserved that pizza I ordered. And the bottle of wine I drank.
(Well, the hubby and the daughter also ate the pizza and hubby drank half the bottle, just to be clear. I add that so you won’t start leaving links to AA on this blog.)
That’s exactly my problem. Whenever I have a shitty day, and I have a lot of them, I eat to cope with the stress. I feel like my reward for not turning in my notice, telling some asshat to fuck off or refraining from stabbing someone is delicious food and beverages.
Oral fixation? Clearly I have it.
This is not meant to be whiny. Writing about this is a way for me to start dealing with the problem. And my problem is that I love food and wine with a deep and abiding passion, but it keeps me from being as healthy and sexy as I want to be. Balanced? I am clearly not.
But today I did take a long walk after I dropped the company car off for its oil change. And I did NOT order the white chocolate raspberry scone at the coffee shop when I did order my SKINNY vanilla latte.
Sorry Starbucks- I cheated on you and went to the Not-Starbucks chain in this crummy little town. Where they have generically ugly cups instead of the sexy holiday red one you would have served me. I hate myself. Forgive me? Kisses.)
It’s the little changes. The little steps.
Yesterday was my day for excuse #8,934 also…I even had pizza, and it was my reward for the extremely stressful day that I managed to survive without doing bodily harm to anyone. You are not alone! Better luck tomorrow.
I rationalized that Chipotle was better than what was at home. Of course, my favorite from Starbucks. I did walk for 30 minutes this morning with the dog.
I'm with you on this!