Yesterday, when it came time to work out, I decided I would rather diet than sweat and slave away each evening on the treadmill. So today started day #1 of diet. Today I decided I would rather sweat and spend 4 hours a day on the treadmill than deprive myself of food I love. So I just had a quesadilla. And now I'm telling myself I'm waking up at 5:45 am tomorrow to walk three miles on the treadmill and watch CMT, since nothing is really on at that hour. Tomorrow morning will be deciding day.
If I am up before the sun and sweating away on my treadmill, then I can eat some of that popcorn and candy at work. Then I can go to Qdoba again this week and enjoy every bite of it. But if I don't, I can look forward to my least favorite color for food: green - and a lot of it. I hate dieting. I want this snow and ice to melt so I can run outside again - so I can get another nine miles in and call it good for the week.
I love fitting into my skinny clothes, but do I love that as much as I love the cajun shrimp and chicken pasta at TGI Fridays? Probably not. Yesterday I was saying it would feel good to look good, today I'm saying I'd rather be fat and happy than skinny and miserable. It's going to have to be working out. The diet won't last a day. I tried: today. I snuck three musketeers (minis though!) and ate popcorn out of my boss' bowl. I am pathetic. But if there's one thing I hate, it's being hungry.
And I just don't think I'm ever going to be able to sacrifice food. So I will have to sacrifice my time - spend it on a treadmill instead of curling up with my husband in front of a movie. Doesn't this sound miserable? I'm losing motivation with each passing moment. I must be off to sleep - to dream of food and wake up to burn off those hallucinated calories.