FACT: Love makes you fat.
When we fall in love and all the fun that it comes along with, we often throw caution to the wind and don’t think twice about the calories we consume on our dates before we consummate because what does it matter what’s on our plate? After the euphoric high of the initial rush of a new relationship wears off, it’s not uncommon to find a few extra pounds clinging to your hips, thighs and now fat ass.
Valentine’s Day here was spent really enjoying each others company and not giving half a crap about all the high-calorie yummies that found their way into my mouth-hole. Cupcakes from Crumbs, dinner and drinks at 141 South and Cervantes, some awesome Godiva chocolates, and we spent an evening cooking together a recipe from The Sopranos Family Cookbook. Food aside, we had a great weekend spending time together, going out, talking & laughing.
But then on Monday, it was back to reality. The reality that I need to somehow hoist my ass up on a scale and be judged. I knew it wasn’t going to be pretty. Booze makes me bloat up within an hour, and forget about a rich Italian dinner. It was over for me. I did not think it was physically possible to gain EIGHT POUNDS in one weekend, but the scale doesn’t lie.
So what did I do? I had to come back from this somehow. The first step was crying. For about two days, I cried and moped over undoing such great progress. Few people realize that crying burns a lot of calories, so I wallowed in my pity pool for all of Monday and Tuesday. By Wednesday, I was done feeling sorry for myself and got back on the program of tracking my food and going to the gym. Wednesday night I stayed on that treadmill forever, pretty much until I cried out for mercy. The rest of the week was back to business as usual because my hope was for the next weigh-in on Monday, I would have lost those 8 pounds.
I did one better. Make that, I did four better and lost TWELVE POUNDS in one week. As much as I did not think that it was possible to gain eight pounds in a week, I certainly did not think I’d lose twelve. My highest hope was just for five. Everyone at work (we are doing a Biggest Loser Competition – more on that in another post) was so proud of me. They all kept coming by my desk and asking me what my secret was. I’m not sure what they were expecting to hear, maybe that I started taking pills or starving myself but they weren’t exactly amazed when I said good old hard work at the gym and eating properly. There’s no magic trick, any magic comes from within.