Triumph (Sort of)



Calories in: 1638
Calories burned: 571
Net:              1067
Exercise: one hour power walk with the dogs.
Now it gets tricky... the meals.
Bkfst, 3/4 cup cereal w/ frozen blueberries & almond milk- 200 calories.
Lunch, salad of romaine, grape tomatoes, cucumber, peas & light ranch dressing- 196 calories.
So, I get to dinner with only 396 calories under my belt, and STARVED. Not a good plan.
I proceeded to make a healthy stir-fry with multi-grain penne, crab delight, peas, artichoke hearts, mushrooms, onions, garlic and EVOO. One bowl was so good (with a glass of wine), that I treated myself to a second (and another wine). I mean, when something is that healthy, what can it hurt? I only put 2 servings of penne in there, so it was heavy on the other ingredients. So far so good, but there was a hit of mac n cheese in the fridge calling my name. I say 'hit' because the craving is something akin to that of any junkie. Mind you, it was made with 'light preparation' (heart smart margarine, skim milk, with veggies added), but I heated that up and ate what was left.
You do the math; my dinner damage was over 1200 calories. Still in the 1600's for the day, but with a definite failure of my control mechanism. 'I'm trying to achieve a normal life,' I told myself. 'Don't normal people pig out on macaroni from time to time?'
Tricky question; yes, they do; no, I can't, lest I spiral downward into the Kraft gutter. That old, FULL feeling, nowhere in sight while I was scarfing down, reared it's icky head. To make matters worse? I hadn't exercised. Didn't even take the gym bag this morning.
We know where this is going unless I get a grip!
So, at quarter to eight tonight, I hit the road with the dogs and took a rewarding, crisp, briskly brutal hike, and I was glad I did. Maybe I needed the carbs, because I felt amazing energy and endurance.
In the end, I felt that I had (somewhat) righted the temporary insanity. That IS, I think, something that normal people do. Overindulge, expend some calories.
If you play, you gotta pay.
Ah, the dramatic struggles of the chub-ette. So trite.
Really.