Oh hey, gorgeous!
Last week, I didn’t weigh in, nor did I blog and I felt great about it. A listener phoned in and called me a ‘bad girl’ and said I should’ve taken my lumps and been accountable. Hahaha! Despite that sprinkle of pressure, I held strong.
About an hour before I was running on empty.
I hadn’t had a great week. When I say that, don’t imagine me face first in a tower of cheesecakes surrounded by a moat of poutine I had to eat my way through first. I mean that I was on the road for comedy all weekend and drove 1,393 km. There’s a lot I love about road trips. For the majority of time, the weather was just fine, I had the audiobook of The Hunger Games: Catching Fire playing and had a good supply of coffee and daydreaming time. There was that wee detail about discovering there are no gas stations on Highway 41 – The Buffalo Trail – and driving into the 63-person town of Schuler on fumes and having a stranger give me all the gas in his jerry can, of course. But considering how smoothly that potentially-crappy situation went, I have to say it was almost my favourite part of the trip!
However, with that many hours on the road, by the time you reach your destination you just want to get the fastest kind of food so you can check into your hotel, flop out on the bed and start unwinding from the drive while you simultaneously start winding up for the comedy show you’re about to put on. So I hit a couple of drive throughs on the road. I know a Tim’s 12-grain BLT bagel doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world, but the calorie count ain’t great, my friends. I was more worried about the Wendy’s grilled chicken sandwich meal in Medicine Hat though. It’s kind of amusing that a four letter word – meal – neatly omits the word ‘fries’ completely, hey? I sure didn’t.
So, by the time I got home, that last gain of 2.6 pounds I had was now 7 pounds. SEVEN? Now COME ON, Ashton Kutcher. Show yourself, take your trick scale and shove it up your sweet, hard arse. So I let that eff with my brain for a couple of days then decided I was not weighing myself last Wednesday. I knew that I was back to decent habits and feeling good and there was no way a mental beatdown in the form of a number on the scale was going to colour my mood.
If you didn’t know the roller coaster I’d been on, today’s weight would seem pretty run of the mill. Since the last ‘official’ weigh in, I’ve lost 2.4 pounds. I’m cool with that. Still .5 til that elusive 60 pound mark. I know this might sound odd, but I’ve been telling my body to let go of the weight. Here’s why I think it’s not completely insane. Okay, so I’m still pretty new at my radio job, right? And that makes my body tense at work. I don’t consciously notice it until I tell my body to relax. Another way I know is that I, um… how do I put this delicately? After a week at work, when my body relaxes, uh… things really ‘move’ on Saturday. Droppin’ off a lot of kids at the pool if you get my drift. *snort* So, a while ago, I started telling my body to, ahem… ‘release’ so I wasn’t living in the loo on Saturdays. And holy shit (literally), it worked. I’m taking that theory to weight too. When you’re stressed, your body hangs on to weight. So many times a day, I consciously tell it to relax and let it go. I’ll let you know how it goes.
Gotta run and act like I know what I’m doing on the radio.
Love,
Lori