Dang. I’ve gained 10 pounds in 3 months. It was 6, then 7, then 8 and now it’s 10. I’ve known it was happening, of course, but didn’t do anything about it. I’ve been less than diligent about exercise and more than willing to eat whatever is in front of me. So how does grief manifest itself in me? 10 pounds, apparently.
Here’s the good news. I know what to do. Putting on weight has nothing to do with not knowing how it’s happening. It has everything to do with eating out… a LOT. Drew & I have the freedom to do pretty much whatever we want to these days and quite often that includes eating out. It’s a novelty that we haven’t done much of in the last few years. Well, it’s safe to say we are making up for lost time (and pounds). On the plus side, I’m spending nearly nothing on groceries. As long as we have tea bags, coffee and coffee creamer then we are pretty much good to go around here. This has to stop. It must.
Dear gym, I’m sorry I’ve abandoned you. It’s not you, it’s me. I realize that one less than enthusiastic visit a week just isn’t enough to keep our relationship strong. I can’t even say that I’m leaving you for at home workouts, because we haven’t done our T25 at home in weeks. I promise to do better and make time for you. What’s that they say? Fake it ‘til you make it? Yeah, I’m going to do that. I’ll see you today.