Last weekend (and, I think, the weekend before as well), I was feeling like a total failure. I couldn't do this.
See cookies. Eat cookies. Alllll of them.
Road trip. Snacks. Sweet and salty. Nom nom nom nom nom nom nom.
Hungry? No. Dessert? Yes.
I had just started weight training, so my body was (I think) retaining a ton of water and because of my indulgent lifestyle, the scale showed it. I still felt so out of control. I couldn't do it. I felt unhappy.
Now that I sit here thinking back on all this, I'm astonished at what changed for me. I'll start with last Sunday. I don't know if you, dear reader, are the religious sort. I am very much the religious sort. I firmly believe that belief in something, Someone, larger and greater than yourself, can work miracles. I don't have to go into details, but I will say that I had a day of introspection and discussion with my God about what my goals were.
I hope I don't sound disrespectful when I say this, but God is one great personal trainer.
I also hope I don't sound melodramatic with the rest of this, but I'm recovering from food addiction. And with God's help, it's working. I know because this week has been phenomenal with keeping it together food-wise.
And tonight, I just went out with some girlfriends to see a movie. Afterward, the plan was to meet some more friends for ice cream. We walked to the ice cream place right next to the theater and you know what? I didn't want ice cream. I wanted to hang out with my friends, but really, I'd just seen a hilarious movie with some of them, I'd had a great time, and I was more than fine to just call it a night. I didn't want ice cream so I didn't eat it. And I knew that if I went inside and got some, I'd still eat it. And then I wouldn't feel very good. So I left. And it was fine. It. Was. A. Miracle.
I still eat ice cream sometimes. I still eat treats once in a while. I still go to the gym and work my butt off, still run hard, and I still count macros. But you guys, it's working. It's happening.