Thursday, January 7, 2010
I hesitated last night to post an update in the evening. In the past, when I've had highly successful days and post about how angelic and perfect I was, I get a whiff of Entitlement City and start eating.
Well, today I can tell you that yesterday was spot on. 100% on plan, even on a dinner date with a girlfriend. I ate according to my adorable meal plan, stayed the course at the restaurant even though there was plenty of temptation, and found myself with 2 points left at the end of the night before bed (forgot to eat my applesauce snack and miscalculated another item).
I debated with myself about whether or not I really needed to have anything. I made myself a cup of tea while I caught up on all of your blogs and looked over my tracker for the day.
Ultimately, I decided to have the most dangerous dessert of all.
I have a huge problem with cookies. I can count the number of times I've been able to stop at a single serving on one hand. I just can't do it, or so I thought.
Last night, I had one cookie. Just one. It was adorable. I ate it slowly at the dining room table as I'm also on a ban from eating in the bedroom (the typical catalyst of my binges). I tracked it right away and headed off to read in bed. The reading in bed part may have been what saved it. On weeknights I typically watch the news at bedtime and drift in and out of sleep, running back and forth to the kitchen to get more sweets. Last night, I changed my behavior in 2 ways, probably more likely for it to stick.
I'm proud of myself. I know it's just one day, but that's all we can control. So now, I'm on to today, and so far so good.
Yesterday was also my Weight Watcher's meeting, but I'm still not weighing in so I don't have that info for you. I do have a GIGANTIC NSV [non scale victory] for you though. Because I was going to dinner with a friend directly from the meeting, I wore my "going out(fit)" versus the usual black sweatpants. This week's "going out(fit)" included SIZE 6 jeans.
I'm not saying they weren't snug, because they were. I'm also not saying they aren't really more equivalent to an 8, because they are. I also don't actually care that much what number they were, but they looked pretty fantastic, I felt pretty fantastic, and I'm slipping out of size 10 pants that were too tight last week IN to jeans that have been too tight forever. So, cut yourself some slack. Sometimes we really are just bloated and not just making excuses.
I'm having a GREAT time using my clothes as measurements of my success while I take a break from the scale.
How else do you measure your successes?