Lame

Good evening lovelies! Perhaps everyone had a great Thursday and didn't turn out as lame as me. I am lame. No other word for my lack of weight loss progress than that. I've been doing Monavie for one week and I lost .2lbs. It's my fault. Any regular meal I had was not very balanced. I'm pretty sure if you were to balance my meals on a scale the healthy food portion would be skyrocketing into the air from the force of the unhealthy portion slamming onto scale.

I got my act together today and stayed on the course. Thanks to my bestie's sister, I now have the free and amazing MyFitnessPal app on my iPhone to track my exercise and calorie intake. The app pretty much has every food listed which means I don't have to enter the nutritional information on everything I eat. That gets old fast. What is also neat about the app is a little feature that tells you how much you would weigh in 5 weeks if you kept up your current day's calorie intake. Talk about motivator. If  you see that in only 5 weeks you lost 2 pounds then you know you need to get your butt exercising and keep your lips shut.

Part of my "unbalanced" diet was due to stress/depression. Food makes it easy to handle because I feel in control of what I put in my mouth. I know that the piece of chocolate will taste good. I'll dig into that last bite of the chip dip because it will make my stress disappear for a nano second. Do I feel stress free now? That's a big FAT nope. I feel more stressed because once again I let myself down.

My shining light this week was last night's walk. Dad and I took, what is now becoming, our usual 2.8 mile walk last night in only 40 minutes. For that walk I decided when I felt like I was at a  good pace I would jog in intervals. It felt great not to hold back and truly see how far I could run. I would test myself, telling myself, "Only have to make it to this mailbox," or "Just three more houses down." When we reached my parents' apartment complex I jogged most of it back to their place. I felt awesome! My mom thought I was going to die because I turned red all over my body. If I did die it would have been fine because finally I did something I told myself I would do. There was no talking myself out of it.

I just have to frame that moment and relive it every time I want to stray away from my shakes. When that piece of pizza looks good I can just remind myself by telling my brain, "Hey, psst, you there. Remember that jog you promised yourself you would take? Remember that and keep your promise to only drinking those shakes. You've got this."

Maybe if I say it to myself in a British accent, like Becky from Glee, I'll feel more inclined to follow my own advice. Just a thought.