I knew this all along, but it really came home to me this past weekend. Sometimes, you can eat within your points and smugly think you’re doing so well….and gain.
It’s not just the weird and frustrating way the scale can lie sometimes when my body retains fluid for whatever reason. The FOOD I choose to eat does MATTER. Points — or calories — are not created equal. Those choices affect my weigh in.
I chose to go back to Weight Watchers because I was tired of having a near-panic attack because I ate something that wasn’t on the “allowed” list. Struggling all the time. Making two separate meals everytime I had to cook. I’ve been on diets that involved no salt. No carbs. No meat. No sugar. No fat. You name it. I didn’t want to be that exclusive. I wanted to eat with my family on a normal basis and not have to worry that I’d just blown it.
In that regard, Weight Watchers is perfect. Most of the time, we all eat the same thing. I just choose parts of the main meal to replace with something slightly healthier. More and more, the family is also joining me. Tonight, Middle ate sauteed cabbage and loved it. That’s 4 out of 5! Just one more monster to convert…
But I blew it this weekend. The stress of That Man’s job situation got to me, combined with travel to the in laws and frustration because I didn’t have time to get my workout in before heading out. I ate my healthy brunch at home while the family ate fast food in the car on the way over. I made the mistake of not taking some healthy snacks to tie me over… and dinner couldn’t come quickly enough. I was starving.
And out came the chips and dip. Sigh. My old nemesis.
I resisted for at least an hour, but I just got hungrier and hungrier. One taste of that evil salty goodness and the old addiction kicked in. I wanted more salt. More fat. It was soooo good. I made myself leave the area and managed to avoid it the rest of the night, but the damage was done.
I indulged in chips again on Sunday while watching movies with the family. Then we ordered in pizza. Sigh.
I counted EVERYTHING. I had to guessimate on a few things, but I did the best I could. I had the activity points to cover everything, limited myself to only two pieces of pizza, and thought I was okay. I didn’t even touch my weeklies. People eat all their APs and weeklies all the time, right?
Yeah, but not with a SALT fest.
(Top that off with a trip to see Brave last night. That Man couldn’t pass on the popcorn. I had to listen to that endless munching and resist. I did it, but man, it was hell after all that salty evil deliciousness I’d allowed back onto my tastebuds.)
So this was week #2 that I saw a 2 lb gain. That’s right, I’m up 4 pounds in two weeks. Do you know how long it’ll take me to lose 4 pounds again? Probably 4-6 weeks. I’m so mad at myself I could cry. I know it’s just fluid retention. I know it’s not really 4 pounds of fat. But it’ll still take me weeks to get it off again.
On the bright side, I am still managing to do Power 90. I only made 4 days in a row (instead of 6 as the program specifies) but as sore as I was, I needed the weekend to recover. I’ve made it 2 days this week. Even if I can only manage 5 days a week and skip the weekends, that’ll still be a really good goal until life settles down.
I know what the stressor was. Looking back, I can see the signs. I don’t know what I could have done to prevent it, but I know working out would have helped. Next time, if we have to be late for an event, then we’ll just have to be late. If nothing else, I have to get my workout in!
There are still chips in the house, but hopefully I’ve got the lid clamped back down and my willpower is fully in place. It’s so funny–the family can indulge in ice cream all the time and it doesn’t tempt me. Birthday cake. Even donuts. Very little temptation. But oh man the chips. It doesn’t matter what kind. Plain. Cheetos. Fritos. I can sometimes handle them in small measured amounts, but when the stress is too high, I can’t. I can’t even see the open bag on the counter (a huge no no but the monsters continue to forget), I have to really physically rein myself in and get that evil bag shut and put in the cupboard.
Out of sight. Out of mind. The points may fit in my plan, but the salt is crack for me. I just can’t risk it.