Week nineteen and I'm 13 pound less than when I started my little adventure. Last week it was 14 pounds down, which is close to 15 pounds down, which is a bit of a benchmark.If only wishing were weight loss.....
I'm writing this post just before i go to the gym. My exercise sked, which I've been very faithful to for the last few months, is yoga Monday, Wednesday, Friday and strength training Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday. Since I got my new-to-me bike last week, a beautiful 1976 red, three speed CCM with a honking' huge wire basket, I've been peddling to the gym, weather permitting. I cycle from Mill Creek to Oliver square, a distance of at least 8kms. That adds a half hour of cardio to either end of my workout, three time a week so you'd think I'd shrink away to nothing...
Except for the damn potato bread!
Imagine potato and bread in the same crusty loaf. Now, imagine it hot from the oven. Have I ever mentioned that bread, besides being the staff of life, is also the sabre of diet destruction? I ate half a loaf of potato bread yesterday. H-A-L-F A L-O-A-F (say it fast and it sounds like something only liposuction could combat). It was over time, that consumption, granted, but it was consumed without enough thought and with no small amount of guilt. Did I enjoy that bread spread thick with butter? Yes.
Yes and NO. This morning I made my regular breakfast -- oatmeal with three tablespoons of yogurt. I ignored the damn potato bread. The damage has been done, but that doesn't mean I'm going to carry on with the crime. I fell off the wagon but I've climbed back on. The half loaf (four [and a crust] slices) will mean at least an extra work out. Possibly two or three. I've learned that it takes 3400 calories to make a pound. That means conversely that you have to monitor your intake by 3400 calories to shed a pound. I've been bouncing up a pound/down a pound for the last three weeks. It's like being on a trampoline and I'm starting to get dizzy.
I want to hit that magical 15 pound mark and I'd like to do it before the end of May. It's important that I do, just so I can see my way forward and carry on.
The Tree Stone Bakery, on 99th street, makes the best potato bread in the world. Go there. Have a loaf. Until I can learn a little more about self control, I'll be steering my red CCM clear of the place. If you see me on my bicycle with a baguette in my basket, snatch it out and stick it in my spokes, please. Daily bread be damned. Give us this day, our daily oats...Amen, so be it. More positive news next week.
M
My weight is up, not much, but some. I'm also fragile at this time of the month so I'm trying not to let it get to me. This time, a month ago, I was crazy upset. The scales moved up and up again and then plunged, 4.2 pounds in one week. So I have faith that this is, again, the case. I continue to be committed to exercise, I continue to monitor my intake, I continue to believe this is good for me and, as the Weight watcher people say: Nothing tastes as good as thin feels.
Last night we were invited to a chicken wing feed, something called the spring wing-ding, at a neighbours house. There were 22 types of chicken wings!! Twenty two types!! I made Margaret's diet chicken: Calories on the Wing. I baked the wings, peeled off all the meat and fat, boiled the bones until they were bare, laid them on a serving tray, surrounded the bones with cucumber and sprinkled the whole affair with parsley. I won a prize for nicest presentation! And I didn't eat any wings. I have faith in bones. I want my bones to show. Away I go, in faith...Margaret
I'm afraid to hop on the scales. I've been avoiding it. Liquid calories have been poured down my throat by some malevolent force beyond my power. I've been in the throes of the burgundy Wine Goddess and, I'm here to report she is one e-vil dame. And fat.
We bid on a high end dinning experience to support a local charity some months ago and, lo, we won! A five course meal with paired wines, in a very upscale restaurant. Hummmm, five courses, five glasses minimum! But if only it were five....Needless to say after all the courses were consumed all six people poured our liquid selves into a shrunken taxi cab and continued the drink-fest as the notorious Commercial hotel where I --thankfully -- was mindful enough to start downing the club soda with lime. The damage, however, has been done and today, in the sober light of Monday morning, I am afraid to step on to the scales... How could I undo what I have worked so hard to do??
This Wednesday is weigh-in at WW so I'll just skip the scales until then, modify my intake and keep up the exercise. I'm off to yoga now, to purify and cleanse this somewhat poisoned temple. Oh dear, if only a glass of wine were a single glass. It's when it's two or three that the sensible me slides inside the oaky Chardonnay, slips into the sensuous Shiraz, toasts the berry and leather and blah blah blah notes of a seriously delicious Cab. Sav....and I become one serious party girl, calories be damned. Maybe AA rather than WW might be a better support group. Nah, I'll just try thinking more, rather than drinking more and, I promise, even if the scale are tipped upwards, I'll report back. Just not quite yet.......
Margaret
