Weeks of working on my coping skills to get to the point that I could find peace in something other than chocolate went up in smoke in the last few days. Most of the gnawing  anxiety is work-related, so I won’t go into detail because:

• I’m a a professional
• The details are boring to anyone but me
• I like being employed

So let’s just go with work-blah-blah-blah has been rough and so Friday night I bought cookies. And a wee bit of ice cream. And caramel apples with nuts because that is my seasonal Kryptonite.

And then Halloween happened and there are all these fun size candy bars that the little beggars didn’t claim that I may or may not have consumed for breakfast this morning.

And today, after I wasted 30 minutes stuck in a drive-thru bank lane behind some asshole in a beat-up pick-up who must have been refinancing his house, I *tried* to order a low-WW-Points sandwich from a drive thru.  But the surly chick at the window got really rude with me because I pointed out she was charging me for the wrong order and so I did what I always do when I’m mad: I left without buying any food.

Hello, Burger King double cheeseburger. You were convenient, fast and the young lady at the window was sweet, smiling and has been the brightest spot of my shitty lunch hour.

In other words, I haven’t done much toward the weight loss goal in the last seven days.

But shit happens. I didn’t pile on all this weight in a matter of days the first time, I can’t lose it all in the same amount of time. You cannot buy coping skills on Amazon or eBay, because I’ve looked, and old habits are hard to break. And caramel apples with nuts are just wonderful and they really do make it all better. At least for a few minutes.

I may need to seek professional therapy and a personal trainer before pecan pie season, which starts today, is more than I can resist.

I think producers of mass-marketed frozen diet entrees really love Asian-inspired foods. And what’s not to love? Rice,  veggies, white meat chicken and a bit of spicy sauce and WHAM! You have an appealing-yet-calorie-friendly lunch.

And in the middle of the workday, who doesn’t need a BAM! of flavor to POWer! you through the rest of the day?

And this dish did deliver a little of the promised PAO! via the sauce, which is the only attribute that kept it from being mostly BLAH!

There wasn’t much sauce, but what was there coated the rice and packed a PUNCH! The rice was a little toothsome, and the chicken was bland.  The veggies were OK, even if the water-chestnuts-broccoli-peppers color combo (white, green and red) made me think of Christmas and  which led to an “OMG that’s exactly two months from now!” moment of panic because even though I love the holidays they are stressful especially if you are on a D*I*E*T.

So yeah, once I recovered myself and finished my lunch, it was OK. Not memorable. Not special. Just OK.

For 290 calories, 17 grams of protein and only 6 grams of fat it’s a nice fit for the nutritionally conscious lunch bag. The 560 mg. of salt sure tasted like much more, as I was gasping for WATER! the whole time I was eating it.

Yeah, I am pretty happy about that. Considering I was on vacation last week and I’ve been bat-shit-crazy stressed this week, I think a modest loss rocks. Hard core.

My only disappointment is my lack of exercise this week. I have a lot of excuses for not getting to the gym. None of them involve zombies, and thus are not blog-worthy.

Tomorrow I need to shop for pants. I have several pairs that are still too small, and several pairs that are now too big. The pair I wore to a seminar yesterday hang around my hips; I can easily pull them on and off without unbuttoning or unzipping them.  All of the capri pants that I was wearing at the start of the summer are baggy, and it’s getting cooler and I will look like an idiot wearing capris up until Halloween.

So, I am staking out bars near the mall so I can get my drink on before I have to wrestle into new jeans in a dressing room.

And, 10 a.m. is not too early for cocktails if I’m shopping for jeans, right? I know breakfast cocktails are in order before trying on swimsuits.

I haven’t checked my weight at all this week on my bathroom scale, which is calibrated correctly so it matches the one at WW. I have eaten healthy for the most part, but there was a drive-thru incident on Sunday. After I swam laps. On an empty stomach. Before I did some heavy lifting.

It was one cheeseburger. A small one. And fries. Medium.

I felt guilty. I didn’t really enjoy it.

Yesterday I was mega-stressed at work. Not once, not twice, but THREE times I wandered my fat ass to the vending machine and contemplated a Three Musketeers bar. I twirled the dollar in my pocket. I thought the chocolate would make me feel better. But I did not buy one.

If I am going to indulge in chocolate, I want something better than a stale Three Musketeers bar.

That’s progress, I guess.

Still, I don’t want to weigh in tomorrow. I can’t handle another episode with Judgy McJudgerson, the condescending bitch behind the counter, if I didn’t lose weight this week. Never mind that I know that losing weight is a marathon, not  a sprint. Never mind that I know setbacks happen and never mind that I ate one lousy fucking cheeseburger but did not eat a candy bar this week.

I just don’t want to go. And that usually means the beginning of the end.

Since this means I won’t eat dinner or I will eat it very late, I brought along a nectarine and this Special K protein meal bar (chocolatey chip!) to eat before I head to the fitness center.

The hag  counselor at Weight Watchers said I should probably add more protein to my diet, you know, so my fat ass would maybe drop a pound instead of gain a pound. Just pointing me in the right direction.

So I bought these protein bars today.

Did you ever make a mud pie when you were a kid? And it looked just like chocolate and, since you were a kid with a vivid imagination, you sampled your mud pie, only to find it doesn’t taste anything at all like chocolate, just gritty dirt sprinkled with tiny rocks?

Then you know what this protein bar tastes like.

Congratulations, Kellogg. You managed to make something chocolate thoroughly unappealing to me.  I am in my 40s and I didn’t think that was possible.

Well, at least I still had the nectarine.

I gained a pound. After a waging a week-long battle to NOT to dive face first into gourmet cupcakes. Up a pound.

"I'll bet you haven't been tracking, you fat ass! BWHAHAHAHA!"

And the Weight Watchers counselor asked me what I could have done better.

How about nothing, bitch. NOTHING! I didn’t do anything wrong.

You would think after decades of counseling fat people trying to drop weight, this organization would have better stock responses when a client has a NATURAL setback.  Instead, they add to the discouragement by throwing it back in your face.

As I was trying to leave with my dignity intact, the counselor whispered to me that maybe I should eat more protein.

At that moment, I gave her a protein shake by repeatedly bashing her to the ground yelling “DIE SATAN’S WHORE, DIE!”

In my unstable mind of fantasy, of course. If I had done that in reality, I wouldn’t be typing now because being handcuffed makes that really difficult.

Don’t ask me how I know that, but it’s true.

Anyway, I am not going to let that wench get the better of me. I am going to channel my burning desire to punch someone (specifically her)  into a few good workouts this weekend, and think of her ugly face every time I bite into a veggie.

Bite me, bitch.

Turns out, I may actually have an addiction, according to this story on the Today Show this morning.

And if I do, I want to spend a little time here for recovery.

While I realize on Weight Watchers, no food is off limits and you can enjoy your faves in moderation, blah, blah, blah. I find that’s a lot like telling a junkie,  ”Just smoke a little weed, not the whole bowl.”

So I have been avoiding eliminating fast food and the only processed convenience foods are these frozen tidbits I share here on the blog each weekday.  My motto: I eat the bad frozen diet food so you don’t have to.

Please hold you applause.

Today I thought I would try to satisfy my craving for McDonald’s in a healthy way. The douchebag that’s made a small fortune with his “Eat This, Not That” commandments recently said on  the Today Show (what can I say, love me some Al Roker) that an Egg McMuffin wasn’t a bad deal nutritionally because it’s only 300 calories and a good source of protein.

So I got one this morning (without the fake cheese) and it was oh-so-delicious and very filling.

Which is why I thought this Smart Ones mini-cheeseburger would be a good idea for lunch.  Since I was still pretty full from breakfast, I thought this wee burger would tide me over until my late dinner after water aerobics tonight AND it would satisfy the jones I have for a cheeseburger.

Except look at this pathetic thing. It tastes worse than it looks.

I know. Hard to fathom.

Remember those burgers they served in school lunches? The ones we were sure were made from the remnants of  pencil erasers that were bound together by a brown cellulose? School is back in session.

The shriveled bun comes out of the microwave steaming and soggy and within minutes dries up to a nice cement-like consistency. Why isn’t this used in building materials?

Adding insult to injury, this flavorless little bastard is 200 calories and 9 grams of fat, so I could have had a real McD’s hamburger for almost that same caloric investment and it would have actually tasted like food.

Pray you will never be so hungry that this will taste good.

(Also: Really, Smart Ones? According to the label you want me to take a meat thermometer and test this precooked piece of crap to ensure its internal temperature is 165 degrees? Really? Isn’t that your job before you packaged this?  If I die of food poisoning from eating this you will have totally ruined my fucking day.)

I know, right?

I attribute this win to a good defense. In the face of overwhelming yummy food, we made the best choices we could and kept the portions to a reasonable amount. Factor in a lot more walking and a lot less couch planking this week and this added up to a loss, which is really a win.

I have now lost a total of 19.6 pounds. My knee feels so much better with less pressure from those pounds and from the cortisone shot I got in July. After I finish up a few things here at home, I am headed to the gym and then the grocery, where I hope to continue the game plan of making good choices.

I just need to keep my eye on the metaphorical ball of dropping pounds and not on the oh-so-tempting caramel apples that have taken up residence in the produce section.

Self control. I have it. Right?

When I entered my digits into the Weight Watchers online program, however, I had to have burned off a few calories while cursing at my computer screen, and I was tempted to earn some activity points by tossing my Mac across the room.

Weight Watchers gives you an automated message when you enter your weight, usually of congratulations for a loss. When your digits are identical, however, the message says something similar to “Well, we see you gained 0 pounds this week. What could you have done better?”

Shiny! New! No calories!

Really, Weight Watchers?

Part of the reason I don’t attend meetings is the phony platitudes and fake encouragement. I really don’t need the online version to spew insults at me when I didn’t gain weight. Thanks, but no thanks.

Bummed as I was (and totally regretting that cannoli from last Saturday even though that one single food item had nothing to do with my lack of loss this week) I had shit to do, so I needed to get my Saturday moving.

After a couple of near-collisions in the Starbucks parking lot (it’s very poorly designed for traffic flow) I took my cat to the vet (he’s fine, some antibiotics for tummy problems) reposted all my blog entries from tumblr to this blog (for posterity and just in case anyone might actually be reading this) and then went shopping.

Shopping was supposed to be my reward for a loss instead of food.

I didn’t lose. But I still rewarded myself with a couple of cute tops and a couple a new necklaces.

Because no loss is not a gain, Weight Watchers.

NOT A GAIN. I ate pizza and cannoli and did NOT GAIN weight. I deserve a reward for THAT.

Had to run another errand at lunch today, so that means bringing a sandwich back to my desk.

Bored with the turkey subs from Subway (see yesterday) I wanted to mix things up a little. So I went to Firehouse Subs and got…a turkey sub.

I am rather gangsta, yes?

As you can see, Firehouse is a bit more generous with the turkey allotment and the meat has more flavor than the kind found at Subway.

That’s a plus for flavor and protein, a minus for extra salt and calories.

Firehouse, a chain founded by former firefighters with a menu and decor based on that theme, offers its sandwiches “fully involved”, meaning with cheese, mayo, mustard, tomatoes, lettuce and onions.

I asked for no cheese, mayo or onions, so I would described mine as a “one alarm” run. More like a trash can fire than a full-fledged blaze.

My only complaint is that my bread was toasted almost to the point of a total loss, and the sandwich had but a whisper of mustard on it. Neither of those things are critical failures, but as a critic, I must cite defects as I find them.

I would return to the Firehouse again, but maybe I will ask them to extinguish the flame applied to the bread sooner and be less stingy with the deli mustard.