I've been off diet the past couple of days. It wasn't exactly an executive decision, but it's not like I did it without my own consent, either. I think hitting the goal I'd been aiming at for the past few months made me feel okay about taking my foot off the gas for a bit.
But that was super stupid, because my body is broken.
Anyway, waking up feeling like my insides were being torn to shreds by tongues of fire was not the worst thing to ever happen to me. It was a nice freaking reminder that I need to stick to my freakin diet. Of course, it was also a rather crappy reminder that I am still a broken human, and that something drastic (read: surgical) is probably in my near future.
In the end, this was probably a good experience. It lets me know the kind of pain I've actually been avoiding by staying away from sweets and fats. And bonus: staying on my diet will help me lose that last 29 pounds, seeing as I have officially gained 3 back.
Wow. The amount of punished I feel this weekend... Touche body. You win this round.
Stories and gripings about exercise, dieting, life, and what it's been like learning to leave the love handles behind.
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