It’s been a ghastly holiday season from a gastrological point of view.
I stopped weighing myself in early November and that was probably my big mistake.
Probably, because I indulged excessively in holiday cookies. As well as appetizers at the family get-togethers.
I will admit that I did not overindulge when it came to meals themselves. I’ve never been one to gorge myself on Thanksgiving turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, and cranberry relish. Never.
Unlike many peopme, my plate has always had plenty of white space on it. I merely take a small sampling of each dish. And I very rarely eat dessert.
I have never understood the purpose of holiday overeating. As a child, I watched relatives stuff themselves until they couldn’t any more, then they’d sit around and complain how full they are. “I can’t believe I ate so much.”
So why did you do it? No one forced you. There is no expected famine. Gluttony makes no sense.
I remember one sister-in-law, who shall remain nameless, brought a bottle of Pepto-Bismol to one Thanksgiving. My wife and I would visit one of our mom’s for a few hours, then we’d go to the other mom’s place for the evening.
This SIL did the same, going to her mother’s after finishing here.
After the Thanksgiving meal, she pulled out the bottle of Pepto and said, “I don’t know how you do it. Eating one huge meal then going to the other side of the family to eat another huge meal.”
We just stared at her. “We don’t eat a second meal when we leave here. We just have drinks and appetizers.”
I mean, seriously, it’s bad enough to gorge yourself at one meal but two in the same day?
But stuffing myself isn’t how I got myself in trouble. It was a cookie craving. We didn’t bake any this year (no spritz cookies! Sad face.), but we did pick up cookies from the suoermarket, including cookies freshly baked by some local bakeries.
And I ate those mindlessly, not counting or caring.
And I paid for it. I didn’t weigh myself — I was afraid of what the scale would say — but the visible evidence was there. My stomach was mocking me in the mirror. “You thought I was gone, didn’t you? Think again, because I’m baa-aack!”
I resolved, without making any resolutions, to get serious about exercise and eating right.
And I started the year off well. I ran the 1st, the 2nd, the 3rd. Unfortunately, my streak was to end there.
I was laid low by a cold. I didn’t run on the 4th because of chest congestion. Friday the 5th was worse. And I laid around that entire weekend, consuming nothing but liquids: coffee, teas, and soups.
Monday, the 8th, I felt no better and stayed home from work. Ditto Tuesday. Wednesday, I felt so bad I went to urgent care.
I’ll let you in on a little secret. The last time I took more than two consecutive sick days off was when I had shoulder surgery. Taking off sick from work just isn’t something I do.
Prognosis? Bronchitis and a left ear infection. They gave me antibiotics. Bit the thing that shocked me was stepping on the scale. Theirs read 218 pounds! That can’t be right! I’ve been on a liquid diet, for Cripe’s sake!
I weighed myself when I got home. My scale, which I’m still not sure how accurate it is, read 207.7 pounds. Better than their scale (why do they weigh younwith your shoes on?). Not as bad, but not good either.
Thursday I stayed home, but Friday the 12th I went in. My boss sent me home after half a day because I sounded so bad.
I had a three day weekend, thanks to MLK Jr Day, and when Tuesday, yesterday, rolled around, I made it to work. I went in even though I still wasn’t 100% (and still aren’t. I still have a cough, sore throat, and sniffles).
When I got home, I forced myself to run. It was a slow pace, just 5 mph, for about 1.25 miles. But it was better than nothing.
At that point, I had gone 13 days without any exercise.
I have to get back into a regular exercise routine. I have to get back into running shape and start lifting weights again.
I’ve let myself slide too far and I have to shore things up.
But dammit! It’s Girl Scout cookie time!