See that wagon over there in the corner? Yeah. That’s the one I parked after I fell off of it.
Maybe it’s not working out. Maybe it’s not having my normal stamina. Maybe it’s a combination of both leading to me feeling sorry for myself and wanting to comfort myself with food. Either way, my weight is up, my self-esteem is down and I’m kind of over it.
Last week the doctor finally cleared me to sweat. I have been begging him for that pretty much since my surgery. I know that physically I’m not quite ready for high-impact stuff, but mentally, I need the release.
So last night, for the first time since mid-December, I got on the treadmill. I didn’t do anything fancy. I walked at a 4.0 pace with a slight incline. But I sweated. And it felt awesome.
Initially I was told that I couldn’t do anything high-impact for six weeks. This was my fifth week and I have an appointment next Thursday. I have a feeling I still won’t be ready, but at least now I know I have alternatives.
In the meantime, I need some inspiration. I need to do some planning. I need to go to the grocery store. And I need to stop eating like old Erika.
I haven’t gained a lot—maybe a pound or two according to my home scale. But I feel like I’m slipping a little. Also, the reason I only know what my home scale says is because I haven’t been to Weight Watchers in two weeks. I know, I know. Last week I had a work meeting I couldn’t miss, but this week I had no excuse.
So there are my confessions in a nutshell. But here are my promises for next week:
- I will plan meals
- I will go to the grocery store
- I will not eat fast food
- I will do some sort of activity at least three to five days
There’s a start. I could use a pep talk or two, though. Because that wagon seems a little out of my reach.