The slow weight gain continues after a week of illness, no exercise, and comfort food. I was feeling bad about it last night (I hadn't weighed myself but felt puffy and unattractive) and resolved get back on track. I was thinking about it lying in bed. So of course I had another deprivation dream.
I've had a few of these lately, all different but all revolving around being deprived of food in some way. Last night Ally McBeal had eaten my steak and I was sitting on the kitchen floor at 10pm crying, knowing the huge roast beef she had tossed in the frying pan as recompense was going to take forever to cook.
I guess my subconscious is really paranoid about me dieting!
I weighed myself this morning and I am up to 80kg (around 176 pounds), a milestone number that I had never wanted to see on the scale again. Ok, Marion, I am letting myself feel bad about that. No shrugging it off because I plan to do better and today is a new day so it's alright. I do feel sad, and guilty, and unhealthy.
When I am logging on to my new laptop and it is still a black screen, it makes an excellent mirror. Or, rather, a horrible mirror. It does not show me what I want to see.
I am well enough to exercise again, at least gently. Certainly well enough to stop binging on carbs.
It is a cold gloomy day and my husband has the car, but there is plenty of fun to be had with the kids indoors. Bring on the dance!
Oh, and my mum is visiting tomorrow so there is lots of cleaning to be done. That has got to burn a few calories.