I was running today with my husband at my current snail's pace when someone passed me. "I hate getting passed, but I always do," I said. He told me, "We just hit 15 minutes." I said, "Boy, it seems like a lot longer. I hate reality!" Really, in my happy place, I am faster than everyone else and I never get tired. And I can eat whatever I want, exercise only sporadically, and never gain weight.
I logged in to this site today and my weight ticker was complaining that I hadn't updated it in more than 80 days. And that's because, you know, I never have the right conditions for weighing: alone in the house first thing in the morning, no food or water yet, no clothes on. OK, so I've been avoiding the scale and making excuses for it. So even though it's in the evening, after a whole day of food, water, etc., I went ahead and weighed myself. Sure, I might be a pound or two lighter under the ideal conditions, but that weight gain is mostly real.
I have been cutely calling my weight gain the "______ 10," for the name of the place I worked when I gained it. It really is 10 pounds now, I think. And I do believe that like Anne's mushrooms, the weight, though it makes me cringe a little, wasn't the real problem. It was the stress of the job and the travel, and the driving all the time, and no real time to exercise, and lunch being the biggest bright spot in my day. The lifestyle was really unsustainable, in the long run. Sure, I was making more money, but I wasn't happy. Maybe, if I were more enlightened, I would thank these 10 or so extra pounds for pointing that out to me, the way Anne's mushrooms made her look behind the wall and find the leaky pipe. But I'm really just kind of looking at it and saying, "Yuck."
Now, though, I have a couple more weeks of excuses before I'm going to have NO excuse. Thinking very seriously of trying the Making the Cut plan. Or something. I have to do something!