Therapy

I have to say that on an occasional basis, chocolate therapy, Whopper therapy, and ice cream therapy work wonders. Sometimes you need to feed (literally and figuratively) your sanity, and it usually works well through the belly. And that's all I got to say about that.

Baby Steps

Despite the Cafe Rio-style pork and rice bowl yesterday evening (which had nothing to do with the Super Bowl, by the way), I am back down to 280.9 lbs. This is also in deference to a mostly exercise-free week thanks to Sam, who has decided that around 12:30 he needs to spend the rest of the night in our bed. I have been better (a little) in regard to portion size. And I've also been restricting my late night intake as well. That doesn't count the cookies that the kids made with Grandma after dinner. Burp. I'm still going to do it no matter the stresses or tempting cheesecakes that stand in my path. Just gotta take baby steps...or maybe crawl along...as that seems to be my progression speed right now.

P.S. The guacamole last night and at lunch today isn't going to help matters any. Doh!

Wind Out of the Sails

So I'm all talk? So what? Sam has really been putting a cramp in my morning style lately. I was able to weigh in on Monday: 283 or so. I don't really remember as it was ages (two days) ago. Doh! But for the good news, I have not been eating late at night any more. Well, at least for the past week or so. And believe me, the temptation to fry some eggs and bacon is just about holding my gut at gunpoint. As I am typing and Amy is making out a grocery list, I have a hankering for a steak sandwich or a French dip or something else nice and meaty and fatty and not good for me in the slightest. BUT (not butt) I am being a good boy ad starving myself until morning.

Please, if I beg for Ben and Jerry's or plead for a Dr. Pepper, just smack me. I can do this. I CAN do this!

Slowly.