It has been too long. When I don’t write, I feel disconnected. Crazy I know. But writing about my journey does more for my forward progress than tracking every morsel that makes its way into my mouth.
The last couple of weeks have been tough. I split a tooth on Friday and didn’t get to the doctor until Monday. The dentist also discovered a mound of infection in and around my jaw. The pain – either from the tooth or the infection – was brutal. The good doctor prescribed an antibiotic and Vicodin. To say that I had a bad reaction to the Vicodin is a mild understatement. I can count on one hand the times that I have been that sick in my entire life.
I’ve continued taking the antibiotic and replaced the Vicodin with Motrin – 800 mg. The combination of those two medications has been most beneficial to my plight.
Surely by now, you are wondering what on earth this has to do with my weight loss journey. Read on, my friend, and I will tell you.
If at any point I allowed myself to get the slightest bit hungry, I would get nauseous. I would wake up in the morning sick to my stomach. So, I ate.
Unfortunately (if you would call it that) the one thing that helped settle my stomach the most was soft serve ice cream. Those wonderful people at McDonalds served me ice cream whenever I asked. How thoughtful.
Throughout the week, I continued to be aware of what I ate. I did not, however, track my food. Part of me just didn’t feel good. The other part of me knew I was blowing passed my points allotment, and I just didn’t wanted to be reminded of my choices.
And then there was the gym, or lack thereof. No matter how strong the message is from the mind that I need to go work out, the stomach’s saying YUCK was much louder. Seriously, who wants to be on an elliptical or a treadmill when you are constantly thinking about bowing to the porcelain god? (throwing up…)
So, for the last week and a half, I have been ingesting more food than I should and I have not been exercising.
Just as one issue started to clear itself, I have developed a case of laryngitis and a cold. Aerobic exercise is almost impossible when you have trouble breathing.
The old me would have been heaping so much negative self talk on myself that I would have been ready to give up. At the very least, I would have contemplated some other mentally unhealthy way to get the food out of my body.
But that “me” doesn’t want to come out anymore. I will get myself back on track. I will refocus on healthy eating. And I will be exercising before you know it. I’ve already decided that I own this process.
This is my lifestyle. I determine the path. I determine the outcome.