This evening, I stepped on the scale and couldn't help but smile when I saw that it said 115 lbs. I have never been in love with an inanimate object like I am tonight (even though I know it isn’t true). I am 5’6” and not at all freaky skinny. I don’t think I have been that weight since I was a young teenager.
In fact, I have been eating HORRIBLE things lately. Last Wednesday, when Steve left, I was suddenly overwhelmed by sadness. He had just signed the first set of papers and it was a big step towards the end of our marriage. For some strange reason, I felt an overpowering desire for sweets and all things chocolate. We didn’t have any in the house, so I took the kids to the grocery store.
Part of me felt guilty, but I also realized that it isn’t a normal reaction for me. I am usually upbeat. I also don’t usually dive into comfort food as a way to make myself feel better, because I know it doesn’t work. Unfortunately, I have been drowning in work and other things and have allowed this horrible pick-me-up tactic to continue. It is much easier to grab snacks and get to work then it is to take a half hour to an hour to exercise and get that high from good things.
So, tonight, I was expecting the scale to give me bad news. Is wanting to believe an unrealistic little lie such a bad thing? Right now, I think not. Tomorrow though, I'll be back to exercising for better highs.
No comments:
Post a Comment