Cheese is the enemy

This is not news to me. This I've known for some time. Not just because cheese is loaded up with fat. Mainly because I'm allergic to it, and it really screws with my head. Case in point: At the airport on Saturday, in the Maple Leaf Lounge (thanks, Guenther!), what there was to eat was cheese and melba toast. And because I was very hungry, and that's what there was to eat, I ate it. Rather more cow's cheese than I've had in years. And because I've actually been quite diligently lately about NOT eating cow cheese, by the next morning, I was all stuffy in the head. Just like the bad old days of unabashed cheese-eating.

These days, my cheese-eating is considerably more abashed. And with good reason. I got on the plane with my stuffy head and dripping eyes, and when we came in for a landing, one of my ears refused to clear. Which meant that I walked around for most of a day feeling like I had an ear full of cotton candy. An ear which just two minutes ago, just as I started typing this, became mostly unblocked with the mother of all sneezes.

Anyhow, cheese. I love it, it does not love me. Once and for all, cheese is the enemy, lay off it. The cheese of goats, however, is still a lovely alternative, and well worth the points once or twice a week.

Ah yes, points. Well, I didn't do too well with those bastards this week. If I hadn't had to learn my valuable burger lesson, I might have come out of it ok. But that cost me 19 points, and despite the incredible number of activity points I racked up last week, I came out with a deficit. Why? Because Banff. Well, because of choices I made in Banff.

Because in Banff, baby, there was great food. I mean, these people had soymilk available at the breakfast buffet. Breakfast, in fact, was no problem, and it is usually the meal that stymies me on the road. But in Banff, I ate the same as I would at home. Fruit and yogurt, cornflakes and soymilk. Scrambled egg (no toast! no potatoes! didn't miss them!). Even lunch was ok, the first day. Chicken breast, vegetables, plain rice, salad. But then came dessert. Lots and lots of dessert. And plenty of peer pressure too. One of my colleagues there said she lives each day as if it's her last, and that includes eating dessert. It's a nice philosophy, but frankly, if I'm to live each day as if it's my last, then I'd best get on this getting strong and capable. Because I'd hate to die and not be at my best. Because even though I haven't been admitting it, I know that the way I'm living is probably going to kill me if it doesn't change. So for me, from now on, living each day as if it's my last has to include eating food that's good for me, drinking lots of water, and working out, every day.

That was one thing I managed to do this weekend. And it surprised me. I went for a big walk on Saturday morning in Banff. Just hauled myself out of bed, into my sneakers and out into the cold mountain air. Totally worth it. I had a great walk and felt invigorated from head to toe afterward. Yesterday, in Mississauga, same deal. Hopped out of bed soon as I woke and headed out on a 35-minute walk. As long as I can do that every day that I don't go to the gym, I'll be ok.

And I told Mom about my new project, and she wants in. Jeff, too. This is good, considering I'm going to be living there for a month. Nice to have them onside. Mom will check out weight watchers while I'm in town. And I'll keep up with the walks, plus investigate the local branch of the y. Because though my first week was rocky -- I'm not expecting to see a loss, frankly. It'd be a freaking miracle -- I am committed to these changes.

Next challenge: Road trip to Toronto with the Professor. Should be ok. He's supportive, and I can pack a whack of healthy snacks.

Heh. That all rhymed. Sorry about that.