Feed a cold...

I've been a little MIA for about a week since my last whiny diatribe. My cold got much worse, and I ended up spending most of the week on the couch, attempting to medicate with food. I know when they talk about this phenomenon they mean "emotional and psychological medicine," but I've never been one to let details get in my way. I decided that a smorgasbord of cheese and chocolate might, indeed, be the cure for the common cold.

By the weekend, I was feeling more human, but the food fest continued until today when I can't even bring myself to step on the scale. I went out with a good friend of mine on the weekend who's been feeling the same denim-waist-pinch that I have lately, and we both complained to each other--it's good to have support right? Anyway, over a bag of mini donuts (I told you it was bad), we toasted our last "supper" and both resolved to start doing better. (I think all legally binding contracts should take place over a bag of mini-donuts.)

So the plan this week is to stay OP. I've gotten into a futile cycle of doing really well until about mid-Thursday when I let the whole thing fall apart and not only do I stick to what I would usually do on the weekend, I feel it's my mission to make up for all the food I missed earlier in the week resulting in negative results come Monday weigh-in. I hate how science always seems to have the upper hand. It's just so goddam smug.

Note: Today I am starting the 30-day shred over again, because I haven't done it in a week. I am challenging myself to do 30 days in a row. Here goes nothing.