I have been doing pretty good as far as my exercise program is going. I have been sweating every day and feel good about this new running thing I’m getting into. BUT, when I weighed myself this past week…..nothing! I know something is happening because my clothes fit better, especially in the nether regions and my arms seem to be getting some definition reminiscent of days of yore. I feel better. I feel stronger. What the hell? Could my scale be broken?
So, back to reality, and I realize that I will have to adjust my eating habits to get this ball rolling. So, this morning I have a boiled egg and black coffee for breakfast. And mentally plan out what I will have the rest of the day to stay on track. I do believe planning ahead is a major key to eating healthily. So, anyway, I head out to the porch do some morning writing and Leila heads out with me to blow some morning bubbles. I am writing and doing my affirmations…..Life is Easy….I choose to allow all good into my life…Abundance is flowing to me in waves…Aaaahhhhhh. Nice.
Then I hear the SPOUSE stomping towards us…”You need to come help me.” Urrr. Helping him is basically an impromptu building of a tarp, lattice, lean-to, cover structure for the garbage cans and lawnmower and wheelbarrow. NOT what I had in mind. I won’t go into the details, but let’s just say it went downhill from there.
The snapping point happened when we were all getting into the car to go pick up our van from the repair shop, where it was getting a new battery. Well, then the friggin’ car doesn’t start. You see what I mean about a bad day? This is the same car that I literally just drove to Wal-Mart and was having a little sentimental lovefest with about how great she still drives and how she starts right up, no problem, and actually imaging myself in a Honda commercial…300,000 miles and still running great! She is almost 15 years old and has 145,000 miles on her, and she really hasn’t give us too much trouble. But today, that bitch wouldn’t start. Insert fits and fumes. Fast forward 10 minutes and we are all sulking about what to do. Then Leila jumps on me and says, this is all happening because maybe we won the lottery!! She’s 6 and I know that statement must say something about our parenting skills, but I am choosing to think we are instilling a sense of hope in her. Anyway, maybe she’s right.
When I have the bright idea…”who wants an oatmeal cream pie?”
The dogs’ ears perk up as we are crinkle open our cellophane wrappers……mmmm. This might be what heroin feels like. Didn’t these things used to be bigger? This is Leila’s first time having one and she asks…what’s in the middle? Tim replies, “That’s cream.” We ALL know it is NOT cream. Maybe my scale is not broken after all.
So my question is this, when the shit hits the fan, anyone have any suggestions or methods of controlling stress eating. This is my biggest challenge. When things are going smoothly, I can stay on track. But when things get crazy I reach for the junk food like….well…a junkie. Help!