Control freak

I must get control of myself.

Seriously, though. I seem to have it in my head that what goes on weekends, stays on weekends. That somehow, eating biscuits, muffins, chocolate (albeit 70 percent cocoa chocolate and letting it melt slowly mmmmm), bacon, pie...what else did I eat?...apple crumble, somehow, eating in this unconscionably off-plan manner doesn't count because it occurs on the weekend.

Internet, why am I crazy?

Also: Cherry Blasters. I didn't think I even liked them. But yesterday? Because they were in the kitchen, I ate them. A lot of them. Too many of them, for a person who is hypersensitive to sugar and teetering on the verge of Yeast Blowout 2004. Seriously, with each one I ate, I could practically hear the evil yeast chortling and cheering.

Of course, that could simply be a factor of my craziness.

The Professor and I went to his mother's house in Amherst. Linda is lovely, there's no question about it. Part of her loveliness, of course, is that she whips up things like blender apple muffins and fresh biscuits when people come to visit. Which would be fine, if I didn't feel compelled to eat them. But I do. Not by her, of course. Linda is lovely, as I said, and hospitable, but not pushy. No, I feel compelled by...oh let's see. A short list of things I feel compelled by?

Well, there's sheer force of habit. Food is here. I am here. I should eat the food!
Then there's butter. I am drawn to butter like the tide to the moon. The butter in the biscuits wants to mate with me. How can I turn it away?
And then there's sugar. Which is sweet. Which, hello? Makes it delicious. And therefore makes me want to eat it.
Bread has yeast. My belly has yeast. The yeast in my belly want to make the acquaintance of all the yeast everywhere else in the world, and they can be very forceful about this desire.
Don't forget the dope. Which is also sweet, but which, sadly, makes me want to eat the world, and then have a blender apple muffin for dessert.

Truthfully though? There's not much of an excuse.

Just remembered I also had chicken strips and fries on Friday night. But you know what? They were tasty and worth it, if not exactly planned for.

The amounts and kinds of foods consumed would not be so bad had I at least taken in the right amount of water, or maybe exercised a little. But this is proving to be the eternal conundrum of weekends. The whole routine goes to hell.

Time to get a little serious about this, I think. Time to make the routine a little more, well, routine. You know? It's Saturday, not Christmas. Saturday is not a good enough reason to throw the preceding five days good work out the door.

So this week's challenge:
Exercise every day (one down!)
Eat attentively (one down for that one, too!)
Make weekends count.

So simple, but far from easy.

Of course, it doesn't help that the professor and I measured me today, and I persist in being smaller than I was a week ago. I'm too smart, however, to take this as proof that I can eat biscuits all weekend long and still feel good about myself on Monday. Thank god. Smaller is not necessarily better. Healthier is, and that's body AND mind, by the way.

Glad we got that sorted.