Did I say bumpy ride? Fucking roller coaster is more like it. I knew when I got all charged up yesterday that I was just headed for a crash. Why can’t I just walk sedately into this whole weight loss thing? Just make a plan, and follow it? But no, I have to swing wildly from mania to misery, sometimes several times a day.
I just survived a doughnut meeting, by which I mean I got from the beginning to the end without stuffing my face with deep-fried sugar. This is particularly impressive because I started the day feeling awful, and would have given anything to drown my sorrows in carbohydrates.
So I should feel good about it, right? But I don’t. Instead I’m just bitter. Because I could be eating that doughnut, but I’m not. And I’d feel so much better, right?
Of course not. I know that. At least the logical bit of me knows that. I sure wish that bit got to sit in the driver’s seat once in a while.