Hard Cold Realities

Last night I asked my husband if there was more pizza left in the fridge.  He said that yes there was, 3 whole pieces, in fact.  I said YES, and he said ...aren't you supposed to be on a diet?  And I said something that I should not have said then and am not going to repeat here, and he said, hey I'm just saying and I said fine, then I guess you don't love me, and I went home and I did Zumba and did not eat the pizza, or anything else, for dinner.  It was maybe my first real positive step this whole diet.

The other night, I weighed myself.  It was about 150.6.  Officially over 150.  Officially less than 5 pounds away from overweight.  Officially fat.  Officially terrifying.  Apparently it would be CRAZY easy for me to go from the 140s to the 150s, 160s, and 170s again.  So many times in my life before I've been discouraged by what the scale said, and instead of making better life decisions, I just hid from the scale, hoping that it would magically change its mind about my weight in a few weeks or months.  Speaking from significant experience, this is the world's worst way ever to lose weight.

This time though, no hiding.  I have not been doing well, I have not been making good decisions.  I don't feel good in my clothes, and apparently my belly measurement is "concerning".

So now I've got two Zumba (holy crap, that Zumba) days under my belt, a little extra sleep last night, loads of days worth of crunches, and the very baby beginnings of good diet choices under my belt.  It's all terribly exciting, I know.

Today I weighed 145.6.  ::sigh::

Next week will be better. Promises.