The truth is I can't handle the truth. Or maybe it's that I can't tell myself the truth. Or haven't been telling myself the truth. The truth is...I need to get serious about this.
Tomorrow is my three-month bandiversary.
The Good: I'm down more than 35 lbs in three months.
The Bad: I've been down as much as 39.8 lbs since being banded.
The Ugly: I was down 39.8 lbs on December 23, less than one month after I was banded.
That means I've just been fuckin' around these past two months. Up and down. On and off. Good and bad.
I'm not going to be back at 39.8 lbs by tomorrow, which is a goal I'd set for myself. And it's my own fault. Eating things I shouldn't, eating more than I should, moving less than I should. The list goes on and on.
I owe it to myself, my husband, my kids, and my parents (who generously paid $11,000 for my surgery) to buck up and get honest about this journey.
I know getting to restriction will help with a lot of this, so I am not beating myself up too much about the eating part. But I could be doing a whole LOT more to help myself. And really, I don't need restriction to work out. What...am I expecting restriction to suddenly make me want to jump on the elliptical in the mornings? I don't think that's going to happen. Although if it did, that would be cool.
I also don't need restriction to stay out of the craptastic snacks in our house. Or to stop getting a caramel macchiato for breakfast and kidding myself by pretending it's a good choice because of the protein in the milk. Seriously. I am fuckin' around, and it stops here and now.
It's time to put on my big girl panties (which could be smaller big girl panties if I would just buck up), and do what needs to be done.
Eat 3 real meals and 2-3 small, healthy snacks.
Focus on getting my water in.
To make myself accountable, I WILL post my progress towards these goals every day. With full honesty. Because I CAN handle the truth.