I lost a pound. I mean, I lost a pound! That's kind of how I feel. I am happy. Really.
I did a very bad thing a couple of weeks ago prior to the merry go 'round of travel I've been riding recently. I plotted out my weight loss and where I should be at certain times in order to hit my goal of 50 pounds by Feb 17, 2011. Turns out I'm now behind. So instead of celebrating my hard earned one pound weight loss, I am bemoaning the fact that I'll never make my goal. I was secretly hoping to surpass it. Silly me! When will I learn to take things one day at a time?
I did spend some flying time looking at my relationship with food. It's been interesting to sort out my feelings. I am not delving too deep right now-I didn't feel like breaking into little pieces in an airport and part of me feels like that's what will happen if and when I finally fully confront this. The Shrink Yourself book would say I'm catastrophizing things. Spell check says that's not a word. Should be.
Question of the day: Should I make an appointment to fall apart or just let it happen?