My thoughts on my weekend away, away from family and kids and CAMBRIDGE (planned break - no sweat).
I have been 100% SS (no cheats, or blips) for five weeks, not hugely long, compared to some of the inspirational folks on here, but well enough for me. Stared at 16"12 and lost 22 pounds in four weeks.
Background: I've always been fit, healthy and 'normal' BMI. I have never dieted before - I put on weight after having many, many nightshifts and far too many excuses
Current: find myself 4 stone overweight and happy and disciplined enough to do something about it. I don't find Cambridge difficult. I would rather eat nothing than something.
Today: Having had a nice weekend away, finding myself a couple of glasses of vino down (after all, I'm not starting back til tomorrow) I found myself face first in the loo, fingers down throat, trying to puke away some of the six pounds I've gained in three days)....Now, I reckon this is reaction to having drunk too much vino (of which I'm fond and Cambridge give me no quarter to enjoy) but still scary. I have, without exception, never, ever, made myself sick in the past, ever. I'm just so wanting to get to where I was three days ago and I will do anything to get there (sensibilities excluded, apparently I have always had a healthy (all too healthy) relationship with food, what's gone wrong?
Thoughts, please? Or just take my addled ass to bed and get straight back on the shakes at 9am, with no self indulgent carryings on
I have been 100% SS (no cheats, or blips) for five weeks, not hugely long, compared to some of the inspirational folks on here, but well enough for me. Stared at 16"12 and lost 22 pounds in four weeks.
Background: I've always been fit, healthy and 'normal' BMI. I have never dieted before - I put on weight after having many, many nightshifts and far too many excuses
Current: find myself 4 stone overweight and happy and disciplined enough to do something about it. I don't find Cambridge difficult. I would rather eat nothing than something.
Today: Having had a nice weekend away, finding myself a couple of glasses of vino down (after all, I'm not starting back til tomorrow) I found myself face first in the loo, fingers down throat, trying to puke away some of the six pounds I've gained in three days)....Now, I reckon this is reaction to having drunk too much vino (of which I'm fond and Cambridge give me no quarter to enjoy) but still scary. I have, without exception, never, ever, made myself sick in the past, ever. I'm just so wanting to get to where I was three days ago and I will do anything to get there (sensibilities excluded, apparently I have always had a healthy (all too healthy) relationship with food, what's gone wrong?
Thoughts, please? Or just take my addled ass to bed and get straight back on the shakes at 9am, with no self indulgent carryings on