Yesterday was an extremely frustrating day. I got to work at 8 a.m. because Mark is out of town. Our email server was changed the night before, but it was only supposed to affect the other broker & his assistant, and not Mark & me. But when I got to the office yesterday morning, we had no email, and Mark wasn't getting his emails on his Blackberry.
I wasn't involved in the process at all, and the service provider gave my coworker the wrong information, so it was a giant cluster-youknowwhat. I did something to my PC in the process that messed things up (I know just enough about computers to be dangerous, and trying to do something myself bit me in the butt), so it took even more time than it should have. All in all, updating Blackberries and fixing emails and my PC (had to call in the computer guys that work in our building), I spent almost 7 hours in a big mess and being highly frustrated.
Not once did I think of eating my way through it.
I left the office at 4:30 and went straight to the movies (mom has the kids yesterday and today, so I could get to work by 8 am. Sophie didn't have any camps this week). I saw Harry Potter--wonderful!--and didn't want to eat anything there, either. Movies are a big eating trigger for me. This was the first time I didn't NEED something to eat while there. Maybe it was because I was by myself and no one was with me eating popcorn and candy. Or maybe I've gotten past the desire for movie+food. I'll be going to see HP again with Mark & Sophie, so I'll see what happens then.
After the movie, I went home and got straight into my running gear. I headed out at 7:30 and went running/walking for 3 miles. It was hot, and there was no breeze. But I'm getting stronger and was able to run more than walk. My asthma kicked in after about 30 minutes, after I'd pushed myself at a 9:30ish pace for a tenth of a mile. A tight, burning chest in oppressive heat was enough to slow me down for the last 10 minutes. I got home and showered, ate some yogurt and fruit, took my meds, took care of the dog, talked to Mark, checked my emails, and headed to bed. I was asleep around 10 pm.
In the past, a day like yesterday coupled with a night to myself would have meant an excuse to indulge my love affair with Ben & Jerry. B&J are notorious for giving me immense ice cream pleasure. Chubby Hubby, Phish Food, Triple Carmel Delight--all are past consorts that I have lovingly adored, usually a full pint at a time.
Not once did I have the desire to drive to Walgreens for a pint.
I talked to Mark before bed, and told him about this little victory. He knows about Ben & Jerry, and knows if he discovers a pint in the freezer, that I'm not doing well. It felt really good to tell him about my horrific day, and how well I coped. I had the escapism I needed in Harry Potter, and I wore my body out so I didn't have the opportunity to ruminate or feel alone. I slept really well last night.
The scale finally moved down. My clothes continue to feel looser. My legs are looking better (I have great calves from running, and they are getting that contour and cut back again). My face is slimming down already. Positive reinforcement for positive change.
I don't need compliments this time. I'm not waiting on pins & needles waiting for when someone will ask me "are you losing weight?" I don't need anyone else's external acknowledgement that my body is getting smaller.
The trip down the scale, this time, is much different than in 2007. The trip down the scale, at 175 now, is much different than the trip up the scale in the past year. When I first hit 175 on the way up, I felt horrible and like a failure. Now it feels good to finally be solidly under 180, and making my way back to my size 12 body, which means I'm that much closer to my size 8 body.
But I am making the most of the journey this time--even though I am impatient to get the fat suit off--and there's no rush and no pressure.