Yesterday was a hard day for me. I'm trying really hard to make healthy my nature instead of something I have to work ridiculously hard for, but I'm not there yet. Sometimes the difficulty wears me out, and I get really emotional about the whole thing. Here are a few confessions:
The last thing I want to do at 6:40 am when it's still dark and everyone else is still sleeping is get out of my nice warm bed and drive to the gym. It's been 2 months. It's not getting any easier. I still haven't missed a single day, but sometimes I really resent it. Nobody who sees me there would ever guess that about me though, because they are all really sweet, and I wouldn't want to bother them with my bad attitude. So I fake it. And maybe I'll always be faking it, but maybe someday I might be genuinely happy to be working out at 7 am. Haha.
My 18 month old hates chicken. I can't really blame her either, because I'm starting to get sick of it myself.
Cooking healthy food takes more time than I can give some days. I don't want to cook lunch. I want to eat a peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwich on two pieces of real bread with a nice glass of milk and some fruit. Or share mac n cheese with my daughter. I don't want to cook breakfast either. I want to eat a bowl of cereal and call it good. My dad came home from a month long business trip once and said he never wanted to see scrambled eggs again. I'm starting to feel that way too. And you know, when I know that my daughter isn't going to eat the healthy dinner I cooked, I'm much less happy to cook it. I love to cook. But lately I've been so stressed out about what to eat that the joy is completely sucked out of the cooking/eating experience. It's just another chore I have to do every day.
I will never not want fries and a shake. When my husband brings them home with his dinner, and I eat my burger with half a bun, I get more mad than I should. He doesn't even really like fries all that much.
There is no food in my house. I say that way more often than I want to. I hate going to the grocery store, and I hate that I can spend so much and have to go back a week later.
Ok, I think that's enough confessing for now. Just for the record, the scale read 206 again this morning. I didn't really gain a pound last week, it's just that I don't go to the gym over the weekend, so my Monday weigh in is almost always a disappointment, and I need to get over it. Or start my weeks on Tuesdays.
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