Wednesday Weigh In -- Mea Culpa, PLEASE!
WWI = Wednesday Weigh In.
227.8. Down point 6. I don't deserve this. Now before you go beating me up, all this (even little over a half pound) loss is going to do is subconsciously tell me that its OK to let myself go at a supper club and eat the entire basket of bread while waiting for the entree -- however sensible -- to arrive. Its OK to have three weissbiers (served, of course, in those ridiculously tall weissbier glasses). No, it isn't. I didn't plan for that "treat" and I knew better. I knew it as I was stuffing down my third roll with butter. I knew it as I was washing it down with my weissbier. I knew it and regretted it as I was trimming the little fat there was on my delicious New York Strip. I couldn't enjoy that perfectly good New York Strip completely because all I wanted to do was undo those dinner rolls, which weren't all that good -- that's the rub! (They were OK, but they weren't anything like the hunk of bread you get at the Soup Ladle).
And today, the scale wouldn't even let me do my penance. No, it rewarded me for this bad behavior. Yes, my weight is a problem, but its the behavior I'm trying to correct.
Maybe I am being rewarded for:
-- only having one slice (that's one serving, according to the label) of the really good frozen pizza we had last night. (BTW, Home Run Inn is a damn fine 'za if you have to go frozen).
-- Not eating any office treats for the past couple of days. Not even those vendor treats. Yes, I did not have any of the sundried tomatoes in white truffle oil. I will have to learn that taste elsewhere.
But still, I feel as though I had to go to confession, and the priest let me off with "Do something nice for somebody in the next few days." This actually happend to me when I was 10. I left that booth with more guilt than I went in with. Where's my 25 Hail Marys? Hell, where's my "Say a rosary on the First Friday of the next nine months?" And now, where's those lesson-teaching two pounds I was supposed to gain today?
227.8. Down point 6. I don't deserve this. Now before you go beating me up, all this (even little over a half pound) loss is going to do is subconsciously tell me that its OK to let myself go at a supper club and eat the entire basket of bread while waiting for the entree -- however sensible -- to arrive. Its OK to have three weissbiers (served, of course, in those ridiculously tall weissbier glasses). No, it isn't. I didn't plan for that "treat" and I knew better. I knew it as I was stuffing down my third roll with butter. I knew it as I was washing it down with my weissbier. I knew it and regretted it as I was trimming the little fat there was on my delicious New York Strip. I couldn't enjoy that perfectly good New York Strip completely because all I wanted to do was undo those dinner rolls, which weren't all that good -- that's the rub! (They were OK, but they weren't anything like the hunk of bread you get at the Soup Ladle).
And today, the scale wouldn't even let me do my penance. No, it rewarded me for this bad behavior. Yes, my weight is a problem, but its the behavior I'm trying to correct.
Maybe I am being rewarded for:
-- only having one slice (that's one serving, according to the label) of the really good frozen pizza we had last night. (BTW, Home Run Inn is a damn fine 'za if you have to go frozen).
-- Not eating any office treats for the past couple of days. Not even those vendor treats. Yes, I did not have any of the sundried tomatoes in white truffle oil. I will have to learn that taste elsewhere.
But still, I feel as though I had to go to confession, and the priest let me off with "Do something nice for somebody in the next few days." This actually happend to me when I was 10. I left that booth with more guilt than I went in with. Where's my 25 Hail Marys? Hell, where's my "Say a rosary on the First Friday of the next nine months?" And now, where's those lesson-teaching two pounds I was supposed to gain today?
Comments