I’m trying to remember when I stopped following my doctor-ordered diet. I’m trying to remember with no luck whatsoever.
When did I stop watching what I eat and start eating whatever I wanted?
I haven’t climbed onto a scale. I don’t need to do that. I know, absolutely know, that I’ve gained weight.
I can tell in the way that my clothes fit. I can tell in the way my face has started to fill out. I can tell in the way that my waist is disappearing.
I am by no means a thin woman. I never was. In my defense, though, I was always curvaceous. I always had an hourglass figure. I still do. It’s one of the benefits of being well-endowed on top, with wide hips, and a smaller waist than you’d expect in someone my size.
One of my goals is to make sure that I keep that waist. It’s a never ending battle.
Of course, right now I’m supposed to be existing on 1,200 calories a day, to help me lose as much weight as possible before back surgery is necessary. And I’ve been a very very bad girl.
When did I fall off the wagon? I was doing so well, losing about one or two pounds a week without starving. Where did it go wrong?
I guess, a this point, it doesn’t matter. I need to get back on track as soon as possible.
I’ll start after Thanksgiving, with a brief rest for Christmas.
That’s what I think I’ll do.