Guilt At It's Best

Since the issues with my gallbladder, I've had to alter my diet a bit. No biggy, it needed to be done. Nothing like a stabbing pain in your abdomen and the constant need to throw up to motivate you to avoid fat.

Along with that, I've started back at the gym, started tennis lessons and a friend and I are even going to this "beginner" boot camp in 2 weeks.

Once I get going, it seems to be a bit easier. Until I break. Then it's hard to get back on the wagon. I know what makes me break, and sometimes I see it coming, and sometimes I don't. But I avoid it the best I can.

Anyways...

Friday, I didn't go to work. And slept most of the day. For some reason, my body has required about 12 hours of sleep a day lately. Not sure what that's all about.

So Friday late afternoon, it was close to dinner time and my cabinets were bare. Still in my PJ's, I was not in the mood to go out and pick anything up.

So pizza it was. I knew it was wrong, but it was just so easy.

After 2 slices of my cheese thin crust, the guilt struck. The pizza went straight outside to the trash. I promptly changed, went to the gym and spent an hour on the elliptical machine.

After I woke up from my nap this afternoon, it was time for dinner again, and the cabinets are still bare. So I leave to go pick something up. I reach the main road out of my complex and turn around to go back home. That damn guilt again. It may have been guilt or the true lack of motivation to head to the gym after whatever I went to pick up.

I'm telling you, guilt at it's finest.