Post 3. From the Boy.
A heaping plate of spaghetti doused in Rinaldi ToBe Healthy Tomato and Basil sauce (2 bottles), a whole lot of mushrooms, and a very large savory, pepper garlic chicken breast, first fried in flour, eggs, and panko bread crumbs. Then, baked with mushrooms, sauce, and topped with two pieces of thick cut creamy cooper cheese, followed by a dessert of fresh strawberries and Cool Whip.
Sounds delicious right? Well, I stuffed my fat face with it Sunday night. I didn’t have any garlic bread (which was extremely difficult,) and we used some sort of spinach, basil pasta I had never heard of. It was definitely a meal that crossed the line of healthy into, not what I should be eating if I’m trying to lose some serious weight. After all my hard work, how did it come to this? I will tell you…
For five weeks I didn’t have a single morsel of bread, pasta, potato, or rice. Then, my parents came to visit two weekends ago. I thought eh, it’s been five weeks, I’m starting a new workout routine in Power 90 on Monday and a new level in the South Beach diet, I think I can handle a little rice, right? To the hibachi we went!
The meal itself was not what concerned me. It was the thought process, a thought process that has been haunting me throughout my entire life. “I’m starting something new on Monday (even if it was not that far off from what I was originally doing) I can take a little break and indulge.” Indulging to me is slightly different than indulging to others. When my brain decides it’s okay to indulge, there is nothing my body can do about it. Nothing. I’m a lot more cautious these days, so indulging doesn’t mean that I’m going waaay overboard. It just means that I’m going to eat in a way I know I shouldn’t be. Not helping the cause, so-to-speak. It’s like 90% psychological right?
The first week of this journey I lost 3.5 lbs. Second week, I lost 4.9 lbs. Exciting, right? Wrong. My weight loss declined. Week 3, I lost 3.3lbs. Okay. That’s not discouraging at all. I’m not going to lose 5 lbs every single week. I’m a realist. Week 4, I lost 1.7 lbs. Finally, Week 5 (this past week) I GAINED 3.5 lbs. How the hell does this happen? It all started with the hibachi. It wasn’t the rice or beer that made me gain 3.5 lbs, it was my mindset. After that evening I started the week off great. I was feeling confident, working out harder, and I had an overall feeling of accomplishment. I wasn’t thinking about the indulgence that I had over the weekend.
The problem came when that indulgence spawned another indulgence. This past Thursday, I decided to make kielbasa with sautéed onions and peppers and melted cheese with a ton of grilled zucchini and squash. In my mind, that’s not bad! IN MY MIND! In most minds that’s nothing. However, I decided in that moment that my mind knew better than the diet plan, which, if followed CORRECTLY, will result in losing weight properly. My mind is not a diet plan. My mind is an anti-diet plan. It is a constant force that goes against everything right (we’re only talking about food in this case).
It ended up being an amazing weekend with The Girl, filled with lots of interesting twists and turns. I weighed myself Saturday morning, and I gained 3.5 lbs. Did I eat too much? Did I not exercise enough? It threw me into a bit of a spin which caused my anti-diet mind to allow The Girl and myself a Dairy Queen blizzard, popcorn, and a late night snack on Saturday, and the now infamous (only for this story) delicious chicken parm and strawberries with Cool Whip on Sunday.
I didn’t eat the chicken parm until Sunday evening, so that didn’t compromise my weight gain the week before. This past Sunday, I did not know what my problem was. Why did I gain so much weight last week? I didn’t eat “that” bad.
Most people would tell me I shouldn’t even care. I know for myself that it’s not that big of a deal. But that’s what I realized before I went to bed Sunday night. I realized that I do care. I care very much. I care about my weight. I care about my health. I care about my mind, and I care about my well-being. Obviously, it’s okay to slip, take a step backwards, fall off the horse, etc. But, the bottom line is, you have to know what the right thing is for you. No doctor or trainer can tell you that. And you can’t know what the right thing is until the wrong thing gets in the way.
All that food wasn’t the problem. I could have had a ¼ of the chicken parm and spaghetti, and one or two strawberries, and I would have been very happy. But I chose not to. I allowed my anti-diet mind to get in the way. I allowed an alternate choice to get in the way. When it comes to food, it’s the alternate choices that get you (me) in trouble. That’s why I plan out my meals every week. That’s why, like everything else in life, goals are executed much more efficiently if you have a solid plan. I did have a solid plan. I DO have a solid plan. That’s why I can look back at last week and say, “oops,” and simply keep moving forward towards my ultimate goal.
Again, I allowed my anti-diet mind to get in the way. It was a choice I made, and I can’t take it back. But I’m good now, and I can move on accordingly. I know what I want, and my focus is clear. I also know that falling backwards from time to time has NEVER stopped me before. I’ve always known, and I’ve always stepped backwards. But for every step back, I make sure I take three or four, or even five, steps forward.  You must find a way to use, “falling backwards,” as great motivation for moving forward.
It’s not even that big of a deal, and I’m certainly not complaining. Every morsel of the food eaten this past week was delicious. But that’s all it was. And nothing is as delicious as reaching your goal feels. I promise. Push yourself every day. Train your mind to be a machine, a no-holds-barred, relentless, fat burning, pristine, healthy machine.
Until next time, folks. Peace.
Two Happy Chickens 