Through the grazing and the stress, I'm still managing to (slowly) melt away fat (or brain cells, who knows).

OK, OK. Sarcasm aside. Another pound gone. One I don't feel too deserving of, honestly. I feel like I went piggy this past week and didn't put in the exercise time because of the blazing heat. I figured I might stay the same, or go up a pound. So when I stepped on the scale, it was a bit of a surprise to me.

Until I gave it more thought.

The me now is different from the me then, six months ago. Even if I miss a couple of days journaling (I'm not saying it is good, I'm just saying it happens), I try and make up for it-- or I'm really diligent about getting it done for the next few days. Even if I miss a day or two of walking, I put in work another time.

My walks are longer.
My "pigouts" pack less punch.
My food choices are better.

This week we did some pizza pick-up, those $5 special ones with a side of jalapeno cheese bread. Love it, but it is most definitely the devil's food. Greasy, salty, a bit spicy. But falls under the "live to eat" food and not the other way around.

After placing the order, I went and cut up a bell pepper and a tomato, doused it with a tablespoon of Newman's balsamic dressing (light) and ate up, making sure to get my veggies in and fill my tummy on something good.

Pizza comes and I grabbed 3 cheese sticks and a slice of pizza. I ate it all and was stuffed. That... was a pig out.

While feeling the strain of my over indulgence, my mind began to spin (as the norm). I felt like a royal pig with a douse of guilt. But then I contemplated. I stayed within my calorie range that day. No, not the greatest food choices, but still within limits (calorie limits, I think I hit the ceiling on the fat quota). I also noted that I did not go back for seconds. Something that I would normally do. I ate what I put on my plate, and I was done.



Practice breeds habit. Going for walks is becoming a habit. Eating one serving is becoming a habit. Eating smaller more reasonable portions is becoming a habit. Enough so that I'm able to still lose weight, while not being as good as I could be. I'm not saying it is optimum or preferred, but it is a step in the right direction.

Years of lazy eating habits being chipped away at. Never will I get cocky because, like a drug addict, slipping back can make for a sad spell off the wagon.