Driving myself

I write this at my peril. I didn't even bring my logbook to bootcamp this morning because it seemed pointless. And I DID stay for "extra encouragement" but I avoided being "tsk tsk'd" by the instructors by staying on the downlow. I went TOTALLY off plan all weekend. I started out ok . . . avoiding the most amazing bread pudding with custard in the world at my firm's annual client seminar. But then I went to a friend's gallery opening and drank wine. And as the weekend took an emotional turn for the worse on Saturday I took a hard turn for the chocolate. And hot wings. And the half a box of snackwells. And the Bangors and Mash and Pims. Ok the last bit was prepared by our English neighbor in honor of Guy Fawkes day, and my South African husband was almost disturbingly excited about eating a big ol' beer soaked sausage on a bed of mash potatos swimming in gravy. And homemade (real butter) apple crisp with full cream ice cream. I feel like I'm describing illicit and delicious sex acts.

So the emotional crap bounced me right out of my wagon. My inner sabatour spoke up and convinced me I DESERVED chocolate and fat because I was feeling sad. WHY do I always conveniently forget that too much of those things makes me feel worse. Every time. Well, ok, I do get some initial pleasure in the eating. And in feeling sassy about it. But then the aftermath is feeling overfull and ick for hours.

So, I'm bruised and bleeding from bouncing on the hard packed earth but I've clambered back on. I just need to learn to do a better job of making a conscious decision to stop the wagon, step down carefully and gently explore the temptations along the way. I need to stop leaping out of the wagon when part of me isn't looking and trying to devour everything in site before I get caught. From here on out I need to drive this wagon. Not just hang on for dear life.