It's Not That I don't Care

I'm at work but I'm not working.  I'm so tired and so unmotivated.  I'm having a hard time doing anything right now and our busy season just ended so I know I can get away with it.

It's been really nice having hubby back home.  I swear he gives me energy.  Me alone is not good.  My life becomes so routine.  Work, gym, home, pajamas, TV and bed.  My energy level just sort of drops and I don't think of much outside that routine which just makes me tired.  When hubby is around I have some interaction at home.  There is someone right there to plan things with and laugh with and watch TV or movies with.  He breaks me out of my solitary, exhausting rut.  I have a depressive type personality so I need that.  Left to my own devices I start thinking too much, I isolate, I feel tired, I do less and that makes me even more tired.  The house is slowly but surely getting messier with each day he is home but that's a small price to pay for someone that keeps me going and makes me feel like there is a reason to live and be happy.  I wasn't as super excited about him coming home as I usually am.  Not that I wasn't glad to have him home but because I was just feeling blah and tired.  We had sex his first night home and although I was tired just thinking about it I totally enjoyed it and was once again grateful to have this energetic man in my life to revive me.

Dinner on Friday was good.  Burgers, beer, fries, dessert.  I didn't think too much about it and enjoyed my time with hubby.  I gained only half a pound and was okay with it.  I'm sort of in experimentation mode right now so I went ahead and let myself eat cereal on Saturday morning which I normally don't do because when I do I want to have two bowls.  I don't know what it is about the milk and the bran flakes but I just love it.  Cereal is super carby and then with all that milk it makes me gain 1.5 lbs after eating it.  I know this so when I stepped on the scale it was fully expected.  I did my toning ballet conditioning exercise video.  God my legs are so weak.  My poor weakling legs.  I used to be able to do these moves in ballet class with no problems but my legs were trembling.  All the cardio in the world doesn't give you muscle strength.  I'm going to try to do a toning video one time per week because I hate feeling so weak and out of shape.  Saturday was mostly spent at home chillin'.  I didn't even have any housework that needed doing.  We should have gone to the grocery store but we didn't; oh well.  I didn't really eat too much the rest of the day.  Some random snacks here and there that kept the cals around 1k.  The darn cereal took up about 400 something alone and that's with fat free milk.  I was able to drop a lb before eating again which made me feel better.  Hubby got some Mexican food out but I declined.  I still have some good sense!

Sunday was dinner out with the family for Mom's Day and my older sister's birthday.  The calories were right there on the menu.  Chicken Casadilla 920.  I said to hell with it and ordered it.  Then there was cake and ice cream.  I was able to take a dump after three days instead of the usual four so that was good.

I didn't dread morning weigh in like normal.  What good does the fear and dread do me?  Nothing.  And it's not like I haven't seen some horrible numbers that make my heart drop.  How bad could it be?  Bad.  117.5 lbs.  But oh well, I've seen it before and if history repeats it'll go down again.  It's not like I could have done too much of anything about it.  I tried to think about what the difference would have been if I'd eaten the salad and if anything maybe I'd have come out a half pound better off but I'd have still gained.  I drank a lot of water and I indulged in cake and ice cream.  I'm not going to like the number regardless so at least I got to enjoy the casadilla and not feel deprived.  It's actually worse to feel that you were pretty good and STILL gain.  If I'm gonna gain anyways at  least it makes some kind of logical sense.  Somehow I've sort of detached my feelings from my body and my weight.  I still want to be skinny but I think that somehow my brain is just worn out from the anxiety of it all.  It's like I've accepted that I have only a very limited control over what my body does so when I gain I'm just like.  Oh well.  It's not that I don't  care though.  I do feel a little bit of regret over the casadilla.  I feel fat and like I need to get my butt to the gym ASAP but the anxiety level is just not there.  The fear and the stress that has been running me ragged only upset me and it never got my weight where I wanted it.

I'm going to get in my two cardio days.  I'm going to continue to weigh myself and watch what I eat because I generally can't help it.  I'm planning on staying around the 800's today which should be okay because I'm not hungry and feeling all obsessed over food.  I still want that coveted 112 lbs.  At the moment I just don't have the energy for making myself crazy over it.

When I think about it, I've been maintaining in a pretty decent range for a while now.  A range that I never expected I could.  Even with all my mistakes.  Chances are; I'm at least going to stay this general size.  I was wearing size 25 Seven jeans yesterday.  I may not be 112 lbs but a long time ago I used to be 150 lbs and there was a time when 118 lbs was a struggle.  And that's what I'm really afraid of I think.   If I don't have enough control to get back to 112lbs what makes me think I can even stay in the teens?  I'm afraid of going higher, and higher and bigger and bigger.  That maybe being in the teens has been a fluke and with each pound gained I'm getting closer to having it all taken away from me.