Labor of Loss

It's funny. There I was last week, all sorts of triumphant and proud and determined, sharing one of my worst weight loss moments and reflecting on it with a better outlook.

I feel like I'm back in that moment again.

I should have seen it coming. I spent last weekend in DC with my boyfriend visiting his sister and her husband, eating out, going to wineries and other such vacation-like activities. Through the week, I only got in one workout, and failed to track my dinners or even measure them out as carefully as I usually do.

I sure as hell paid for it this week, in the form of six pounds.

I am disgusted right now. Disgusted and disappointed. I am angry at myself for eating weeks of hard work without a thought about the consequences. Six. Pounds.

I was so close to being down twenty pounds and now I'm hardly above ten. I think that's what really gets me - the numbers. I can't even post last week and this week's weights, just looking at the numbers makes me feel sick.

What can I do but start again?

Here we go.