Yesterday started off great.
I went grocery shopping, wrote my blog, made a plan, and was eating healthy. I had several small meals throughout the day, and was tracking everything.
And I was starving.
I think I must have an abnormally hearty appetite, because Tyler ate pretty much exactly what I did, and every time I asked him if he was hungry (which was about every 5 minutes), he said he was fine.
I, on the other hand, was ravenous. My stomach was talking up a storm, and it was not saying nice things.
I kept trying to eat healthy snacks, like low fat string cheese and low fat chicken soup. I had an apple with some light-caramel dip. I had half a banana. I was still hungry.
I drowned my pain with drinking many glasses of water, put some frozen chicken breasts and salsa in the slow-cooker for dinner, and went for a walk with Tyler on the beach (my 'workout').
One the way home, I started to crash. I convinced Tyler to stop at the store for some peanut butter cups to satisfy my Halloween cravings, and immediately ate one.
I instantly felt better. Ah, sweet relief. Literally.
Then we (read 'I') came up with the bright idea to forgo the chicken salsa that had been simmering for dinner and get subway sandwiches instead to eat while passing out candy to trick-or-treaters at Tyler's house. 'Subway's healthy', I thought... and it was! I said 'no' to the cheese (but 'yes' to the bacon, oops) and chose a whole grain bread as the base of my sandwich.
We arrived at Tyler's house to find a little driveway party going on with some friends that were also planning to pass out candy to costume-wearing kids. They were enjoying some divine looking cheese pizza with thick, delicious crust, and seemed saddened at our subway bags, as they had generously planned for us and bought extra pizza so that we, too, could delight in the cheesy goodness. I started to feel guilty and tempted. The pizza was calling me. It smelled so good, and everyone looked so happy eating it. 'Maybe just one...', I thought....
So I indulged and had a small piece. And half my sub. And then another small piece of pizza. It was so good. So, so, so very yummy. I also had another peanut butter cup. 'Enough', I finally thought. 'That's it'. I knew that the moment I arrived home, I would enter everything I had eaten into my calorie-tracker.
And this, and only this, is what helped prevent me from continuing to stuff my face.
I finally made my way to my apartment after several hours of rewarding costumed-kids with candy (the ones without costumes got candy, too, but it was the candy no one else wanted like 'Hot Tamales', which I like but everyone else thought was lame-o), emptied my now-overcooked salsa chicken and rice into several containers for lunch this week, and proceeded to enter in everything I had eaten into 'big brother'.
I grimaced and avoided looking at the final calorie total. Curiosity finally won out and I nervously opened one eye to see what the damage was.
Actually, it wasn't all that bad - about 1800 calories were consumed throughout the day, with my original goal being about 1250. If you take into account an hour of walking on the beach, that's not too shabby. So the downfall of my food pyramid wasn't all that dramatic, after all.
And today is a new day, people. I have a rough sketch of what I'm going to be eating this week, and I've scheduled in my workouts with reminders.
I'm going to do it.
I have to - there's only 49 days to go!