Remember Me?

I'm not sure that I do.

Why is it that good intentions so easily go by the wayside while bad intentions come to fruition in less time than it takes to eat a Twinkie? Not that I eat Twinkies. I'm a Ho-Ho girl myself.

I really have been *Results Typical rather than *Results Not Typical. I didn't follow my plan. I didn't even start to follow my plan. I did go to meetings for a few weeks, but I didn't track, I didn't stop eating crap, and I certainly didn't start exercising. Not shockingly, I stopped going to meetings again.

In May, I said, yet again, enough is enough and waddled back onto the scale. To find a new number that I've never seen in my life. 209.6. The good news is I stayed on track long enough to lose 10 pounds. Then I started slacking again and gained three of them back. One half-assed week helped me lose 1 pound. But now I find myself at a crossroads: do I continue my relapse until it becomes a complete collapse that leaves me at 220 three months from now? Or do I get my act together?

Today, I chose to collapse. I found myself thinking about hitting the McDonald's drive through after work. I wasn't hungry when I got off the train and I knew it. I wanted to go anyway. And so I did, knowing full well that (1) I wasn't hungry; (2) I was sabotaging myself; and (3) I didn't give a fuck.

Now I feel sick.

And fat.