Its Saturday night as I write this. I have been doing so good on the blitz this week. Seems like the week after my period is as good as the week of my period is bad. I had no booze, only a few cookies, and I found the self control I needed to get the job done was in ample supply. Its like my body presses a reset button after my period, and the closer I get to the next period, the more I'll eat. I ending this week 1600 calories under budget for the week, and by the time dinner rolled around, I had 1035 calories left for the day. I decided to go for it.
I had a cheeseburger, fries, a coke, and frozen yogurt in a waffle cone with strawberries and kit kat pieces. I'm not topping it off with a glass of wine.
EATING IS SO FUN.
I'll continue this post on Monday after the weigh in. There better be a pay off.
It is now Tuesday, and I weighed myself this morning. The scale said I was up two lbs. Fuck you, scale! I did not accept that. I wasn't hungry for breakfast, so a few hours later I weighed myself again. This time it said that I was up 3 lbs. You asshole! So I weighed myself again, and finally - FINALLY! - it came to its senses: I was down one lb. One measly lb. after my week of perfection. Bastard.
I think I should weigh myself on Fridays, before the debauchery of the weekend starts. I went to an Oscar party on Sunday where I drank a ton of wine and had a lot of crab rangoon and cookies.
I am starting to see changes, though, and my neighbor asked me if I'd lost weight. I was wearing my suck-it-in pants, but I'll take all the positive reinforcement I can get.
I'm going to try again tomorrow. This will not stand.