I’m trying to lose weight here. “You need to eat less, exercise more, drink a ton of water, eat a sh*tload of veggies…” blah blah blah. That’s exactly what I’m doing. I lost a pound this week. A single-solitary freaking little pound. Yesterday, yes, I said that a “measly” five pounds was more than you think, but I didn’t sign up for this to lose a mother f*ckin’ pound a week. It feels like one pound is a whole hell of a lot LESS than I thought.
Yes, I’m angry.
The facts: 1/2″ off my hips
1/2-3/4″ off my quad
Gained two pounds of muscle back
Lost some visceral fat
So, we had a chat about my week and what I really ate. My head drops, I study my shoes, and mumble, “I managed a cup of veggies a day, I think.”
“Well,” ever the cheerleader (in a good way) says, “that’s something! Did you write down your food this week?”
“Uh, ….. uh….. no.” Then, in a rush, it all tumbles out like confessions to a priest, “And, I probably only got required 3 IP foods in on a couple of days. The rest of the days, I only had two. I mostly didn’t eat my protein either. Maybe 4-6 ounces a day on average. And, before you ask, no, I probably didn’t drink enough water.”
So, same song with me, every damn time I start to diet. If the food is just “meh” and I can go without, I tend to do so. Eating is a chore, not a reward all the sudden. Whoa! Here come all the psychology profs now. There’s your problem!
This week, I’m eating ALL my food to keep my metabolism firing on all cylinders. I’ll drink my damned water. I will freaking write it down.
It seems counter intuitive. Eat too much – gain weight, eat less – lose weight, eat too little – stall out your weight loss. Can’t win for losing around here sometimes.