I don't know why I can be on a roll with eating healthy, exercising, doing everything I know I need to do and then I just give in.
Last night, I was very hungry getting home from work. Had a salad and a protein shake because I was too tired to cook.
I took a nap, fell asleep reading, then got up and went straight to the husband's treat drawer and ate two giant frosted cookies. Then I went back for an oatmeal raisin.
Why? Why do I do this? I truly don't understand it. Oh, and the book I was reading? Confessions of a Carb Queen about a woman who weighed 468 pounds, went to the rice clinic in Durham, and lost 250 pounds.
Why would that drive me to eat? Sometimes I don't think it's a drive. I think it's just an addiction. Or a habit. Or some wretched, seemingly insurmountable combination of the two.
No cookies this morning and ~ surprise, surprise ~ I still feel motivated and hopeful. I've got a phone book propped under my feet at the office, takes a little pressure off my fat legs. Fat legs. Ugh.
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