Not only have I fallen off the wagon, friends, the wagon has ran over me. And backed up. And ran over me again, for good measure. And then I lay there, covered in dust, while I watched it pull away from me and travel off into the horizon.
The past month has been a massive backslide. To be honest, the last 6 weeks. I think it officially kicked in when I skipped the gym to go to East Side Mario's for dinner.
Now, it was a really fun night, in honour of my birthday, and I had an amazing time with my other half, and I wouldn't trade it for the world.
But then we started packing, and then we moved, and before I knew it over a month of high stress, bad meals (greasy fast food, heavy pasta dinners, and so many sugary treats) and skipping the gym caught up to me.
We went to the gym last night. Gary worked out. I sat on a bench outside because I had been away from the gym for so long that they donated my sneakers to charity.
I wish I was kidding.
Every couple of months, the gym posts a sign giving members two weeks to clear out their stuff from the locker room or it'll be donated. I missed not only the sign, but the two week grace period AND THEN SOME.
So new sneakers it is.
Today I'm starting small. I haven't stepped on the scale in a looong time. I'm drinking my 2 L of water, had a healthy breakfast (oatmeal and banana) and am trying to skip the temptation of the 3pm sugary snack.
I've got no more excuses. We've moved. Things have settled down at work. My future mother-in-law isn't visiting. I've got a long stretch of months ahead where I can focus on weight loss, on diet and exercise.