Monday, October 20, 2014

My Frenemy

I know I've posted this before, but I weigh every day and keep track of it on a calendar.  I've done it for several years now.  I know "they" say you aren't supposed to do that, and even my WW leader frowns when I mention it.  I think the experts are afraid daily weighers will somehow become obsessed with the numbers.  I am not.  I just simply do it to track patterns, like my weekly gain every Monday.  Perhaps I should be a little more obsessed, maybe that would help!  It's an exercise in frustration though, because it just goes up and down, up and down, never moving forward.

This weekend was like every weekend of my life.  Even though we didn't go out of town, we did leave the comfort zone of the house, and out there in the world I go crazy with eating.  It doesn't matter how many times I tell myself I will only order the side salad with the fat free dressing, I never stick to that plan.  Hell, I don't WANT to be that person who only ever eats a nasty little lump of lettuce every time we go out.  I don't think my husband would enjoy my company much either if I was that person.

Friday night I had expected him to work late, but miracles sometimes do happen, and he was home at a "normal" time.  But super stressed out.  He hadn't been home ten minutes, and we were out the door, headed downtown to our favorite Mexican restaurant.  Well who ever heard of sticking to a healthy plan at a Mexican eatery, hah!  Luckily I don't drink alcohol, so the lure of a few Margaritas does not entice me.  But I do drink enough soda to make up for it.  Normally I get water when we go out, but there are just some cuisines that call for a nice cold Coke.  The only positive was that we didn't get a second basket of chips!

Saturday we got up early to head off to an estate sale and then an auction, so in between there was lunch out.  I managed to talk James into my favorite sandwich spot, where simple buns are bumped in favor of thick chewy sourdough bread, and sandwiches are loaded with yummy squishy dressings and cheese and olives and all sorts of fattening toppings.  I can't resist, and since the place is "in another town" and I don't get over that way very often, I convinced myself that was reason enough to indulge.  Sunday night my in-laws came through town for a nice visit, and we had Italian out.  Even though my pasta wasn't great, and I barely ate any of it- I did have plenty of salad, bread with oil, and the free dessert they offered in place of the terrible entree.

So this morning, my nemesis the scale showed the two pounds I gained over the weekend.  I expected it.  I always know that, whatever I weighed on Friday morning before WW, I might as well add 2-4 pounds come Monday.  That's been my pattern for years now.  I know I will lose those 2-4 pounds by Friday, which will mean no loss for my meeting this week.  And, once again next weekend, I'll do the same thing all over again.  Gain several pounds with two or three meals eaten out.  Then spend all of next week working it off.  It's why I can't get ahead.

I don't know how to break this pattern.  Easy enough to say stop eating out, but that isn't going to happen.  James and I don't stay home on the weekends.  And I haven't found a way yet to control myself at restaurants.  We enjoy eating out.  We love the burgers at The Brickhouse, the pizza at Fabiano's, the wings at Taco Mac.  I never want to tell my husband "Oh I can't eat there" when he wants to go somewhere in particular.  But I also don't want to sit across the table from him watching him eat chili cheese fries while I poke my fork at a tasteless piece of cucumber with no dressing.  I don't know how to find the balance where we can both have a good time yet do what's right.  That's the answer I need, to make the scale my friend from now on.

SANDY

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