It's not really my 63rd week. It's my 24th week. That 63 was a little joke I picked up from my wonderful, funny in-laws. I won't bother to explain except to say that, in the Lewis family, when someone is being a sir grumps-a-lot (like when you're losing a board game and getting really mad about it or when someone tickles you and you're not in the mood so you throw a fit or something along those lines) everybody tells you you're 63. Or, if you're big enough to admit it, you tell everyone else you're 63. Which usually makes you laugh a little.
Anyway, I said week 63 because I was not in the mood to post today. At all. See, I was 140 last week. And somewhere in the middle of this past week I was 139. Then 138. The skinniest I've been in so long! The skinniest I've been in years! And then I got cocky. Thought I could eat whatever I wanted. Chocolate chip cookies looked good. Super big mini M&M cookies looked good. Double Stuf Oreos looked good. Ice cream looked good.
You get the picture. It's a sad picture. It's a picture entitled: "This week's weight: 141." Even though I was 138.
I fluctuate so much between wanting to sacrifice goodies to reach my goals and wanting to "enjoy life and be realistic." The truth is, I was enjoying life when I was goodie-free. But it's hard to tell that to a cookie. You tell the cookie that carrot juice tastes good and what does it do? It sticks out its tongue at you and points to its chocolate chips. Little mean cookie. And yet, it's so full of good feelings and happy memories and yummy tastes. How can a cookie be so good and so bad at the same time? I struggle with that. All the time.
Anyway, so there's my weekly update. The good news is, Sarah is back! And we went on a walk this morning. Which makes everything in my life seem to fall back into place. Our 5K is this weekend. Bryan says you can walk 3 miles in 45 minutes. Hopefully we'll do better than that. Wish us luck!