I've handled the move well. I've handled the separation of my family as well as possible. I've handled my new job pretty well too. What I've not handled well at all is my commitment to fitness.
Not only did my commitment to fitness take a backseat. I bound it, gagged it and tossed it in the trunk. If I happen to overhear the muffled cries of my fitness calling for help, I turned up the radio so that I could pretend my bad choices weren't stacking up.
With my commitment to fitness hijacked - I started down an all-too-familiar road of crappy food. Steamed squash turned in to squash casserole. Grains, bring them on! Eventually I became use to the intestinal discomfort that happens every single time. Dairy, Sweets! Oh yeah! Pile it on! After living strict Paleo, I tossed it all.
Maybe I should analyze the Why, but even knowing why doesn't undo it. If you know me at all by now - you realize moderation really isn't my thing. It is a concept as foreign to me as reading hieroglyphics.
Even as I felt the clothes grow more snug, I kept eating. As the clothes without "give" sank to the back of the closet, I kept eating. As the ones with "give" became my staple, I kept eating.
I finally put myself on the scale. 25 lbs. Unreal. But I didn't stop there. I kept eating. Even as I stopped enjoying food. I kept eating.
I think I'm a sane and reasonable person. But then I read my own words and think, "Pamela - you have issues!"
So I've topped out at 29 lbs gained since moving to Alabama. I have no one to thank but myself. I'm going back to what works for me. Grain & dairy free and no refined sugars. This isn't a size thing. Truth is my body is happier and I'm healthier when I live that way. I know I'll get the new poundage off. I always do. Well almost. It's the trend of self-destruction that concerns me. Why do I repeatedly get myself so close to success and then start self-destructing?