Last weekend, I was certain I’d worked up enough will power to work out daily. Twice daily, in fact, was my regimen until I went back to work on Tuesday. That day, I couldn’t work out in the morning (too tired). And I couldn’t work out before bed (still too tired). So I decided to try extra hard to watch what I ate this week, to make up for not working out as planned.
And that went well. At first.
I managed to dodge the Thin Mints my brother brought home, and to steer clear of the soda, left over from some party we had a few months ago (but skipping soda is never a problem, considering the fact I don’t drink it.). I ate lots of greens, avoided carbs and apparently, all this wasn’t enough since last night, I ran (and by ran, I mean drove) to Starbucks where I had a grande vanilla steamer and a piece of pumpkin loaf.
I’M A FAILURE!
I’m pretty sure that was among my first thoughts this morning, somewhere between the “I am way too freaking’ tired not to hit the snooze” and the “Thank God that was a dream.” (Did you know I really can’t stand remembering my dreams? I can never tell they were dreams right away. It’s kind of horrifying.).
I know now that I’m not a failure. But today’s a new day, to try to do better.
